The Return of Moriarty
by Kristiana 'Tiger Lily' Ball
Summary: Irene maybe behind bars but the empire still continues. How far will Sherlock go to protect those who are most important to him? Joanlock. Rated M: adult themes including sexual assault and language
1. Chapter 1

**The Return of Moriarty**

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the character*

"It appears that putting Moriarty behind bars was not enough to destroy the empire. A new emperor has taken over." Gregson told Sherlock, throwing a new case file down on his desk.

"Impossible. Irene was clearly the mastermind, they couldn't continue business without her." Sherlock stated confidently. Picking up the file, he browsed it only momentarily before his confidence began to falter. "Unbelievable…" The case followed the Moriarty style to a tee. Honestly it was the exact same plan that had been used to destroy the compromise between Greece and Macedonia, the kidnapped daughter in exchange for the murder of a diplomat, triggering a domino effect that would eventually lead to war, only difference was the names of the countries. "Well whoever the new ruler is, they are not very creative. Shame really. I detest open-and-shut case." Sherlock threw the file back on the desk.

"Creative or not, this is a serious problem. How are we going to stop _another_ Moriarty? We just…" Gregson was interrupted the ringing of Sherlock's cell phone.

"Ah! It appears Watson is finally awake. Perhaps she will have a plan." Sherlock flipped open the phone. "Watson! I have a quiet intriguing case. I was just about to bring back to the Brownstone."

"One would think after being shot in the shoulder by an intruder, you would have installed better security." A gravelly male voice stated.

"Who is this?!"

"Especially when you have such a lovely treasure residing in your home… completely unprotected… and utterly vulnerable." The voice let out a breathy laugh.

"Where is Watson?!" It was a miracle the phone did not snap from Sherlock's grip.

"Oh no need to fret Mr. Holmes. Your dear Watson is still in her room, she has been a bit _tied up_ since I got here." The ghostly laugh was heard again sending a chill through Sherlock's entire body. "There is a new Moriarty running the show, yet the target remains the same. I hope you find me a much… worthier opponent than predecessor. Until we speak again Mr. Holmes." The line went dead.

"I need to get to Watson." And with that Sherlock ran out of the precinct, flagged down a cab, and raced to the Brownstone.

Sherlock burst through the door of the Brownstone prepared to kill.

"Watson!" Sherlock shouted.

Silence.

"Watson!" Sherlock rush up the stairs and found the door to Watson's room shut. He slowly approached, reached for the door knob than paused. What would he find behind the door? Why hadn't she answered when he called for her? Was she hurt? Was she even alive? He closed his eyes and filled his lungs, bracing himself for the worst. He gently turned the handle and just barely cracked open the door. "Joan?" He whispered softly, praying for a reply, any sort of reply.

"Sss… Sher… Sherlock?" A soft, weak voice whispered. Could that be Joan? The answering voice was rough and fully of fear, nothing like the strong, confidence that ran through the air when ever Joan opened her mouth. Sherlock hesitated, what if it wasn't her? What if it were a trick?

"Sherlock?" The sad voice called out again, if you could call that pitiful sound calling out. "Sherlock? Is… is that you? Please… please God let that be you… Please, please whoever you are don't hurt me… please…" The voice cracked and broke into sobs as it begged. Sherlock could no longer deny it, the pathetic sounds and sobs belonged to no other than Joan. He aggressively pushed the door open the rest of the way, ready to face whatever lay beyond.

The curtains were drawn on the single window in the room, the only light came from down the hall, creepy in through the open door. Despite the darkness, Sherlock could make out the figure of Joan's naked body lying across the bed, hands bound above her head to the headboard, face turned away from the light. Her whole body was trembling from fear and the trauma she must have endured throughout the morning. Sherlock's heart nearly stopped beating as he stared at his partner, his companion, his best friend, restrained and completely vulnerable. _What has he done to you?_ He wondered as he slowly approached the bed. Cautiously, he sat on the edge of the bed and gently reached out to stroke Joan's hair hoping to provide even the slightest bit of comfort, but the moment Sherlock's hand grazed her head Joan began to scream, struggling to get away.

"Please! Please!" She begged, her attempts to escape painfully stifled by her bonds, causing her to cry out as the cord bite deeper into her wrist. "Please, please… don't touch me anymore. Please…" A new round of sob racked through her body and he folded her body into the fetal position, make herself as small as possible.

"Joan, Joan! It's me! It's Sherlock!" He replied, speaking softly again trying to soothe her. He pulled a pocket knife out and quickly cut her bonds causing her arms to fall, too heavy for her to move. He then grabbed a quilt from the closet and laid to over her body, and carefully he moved her arms to lie more comfortably with the rest of her body. "Joan… my dear Joan… you are safe now. I will not allow any more harm to come to you."

"Sherlock…" She breathed gently. "Oh God, Sherlock! He… he just burst through the door! Before I could move… he… he was already on top of me…" She slowly turned, wincing with each movement, to bury her face in Sherlock's chest and burst into tears.

"Ssshhhh… it is alright. You are safe Joan. You are safe." He continued to chant this mantra over and over until she finally ran out of tears. Together they sat silently, Joan gripping Sherlock's shirt as if were her only life line preventing her from floating back into the nightmare that was her morning, and Sherlock stroking Joan's hair as if she were the most fragile, precious treasure a person could ever possess.

"Joan…" Sherlock whispered reluctantly. He did not wish to disturb her anymore but he must know. "Joan? What… what did he do to you?" Her entire body tensed and she began to once again tremble. She gripped his shirt tighter and very softly, so that he was not sure that he heard her correctly, she murmured her answer.

"He… he raped me…"


	2. Chapter 2

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

Sherlock's heart stopped beating and he could no longer breathe. No! No, no, no, no, no! Nothing but death could have been worse. Bruises would fade, cut would heal, bones would mend, but this? This he could not fix, this he could not heal for her. Dearest Joan, how could anyone do this to her? He knew the answer. She was now beyond repair because of him, and he could do nothing to save her. Sherlock wrapped his arms around her and pressed her tight against his chest despite her soft whimpers of pain.

"Joan… sweet, perfect Joan… I am so sorry. So very sorry." For months now he had strived to hide his affections for the beautiful women who lived under his roof. From the moment she entered the house everything had changed in his life. He first learn not to hate her, then to like her, then to admire her, then to need her, and finally, though he would not admit it aloud, to love her. Ironically, he had Moriarty to thank for his discovery of his true feelings, it was her offer to run away that had opened his eyes to how much he loved Watson. He could never leave her, and now here she was, a shattered mess, and he couldn't love her more.

"We need to call Gregson." Sherlock said, slowly sliding back into his detective mood as he gets up off the bed.

"Must we?" Joan's voice was full of panic, and Sherlock's heart broke watching her suffer.

"Perhaps it can wait… but just for a while. We must tell Gregson before too long." She nodded reluctantly, despite everything she knew that there was no avoiding what must be done. "But Joan," Sherlock turned around to face her as she lied still curled up in the bed, afraid even to breathe too quickly. "Joan… can I at least turn on the lights and look you over? I need to know what he did to you… everything." His jaw clenched as he remembers the demon who had called him, the monster who had hurt this woman, the woman he loved.

Joan hesitated and pulled the quilt tighter around, trying to cover every inch of her skin. He waited, uncharacteristically patient, as she deliberated. He knew that she was scarred now, and everything at this moment had to be her decision. She had to have control. Slowly she looked up at him and nodded, giving him approval to switch on the lights. Gently, he flipped the switch and slowly looked back at Joan whose face was turned towards the window. From the way she clenched the quilt to her chest, he knew she must being hiding some physical damage. It was obvious that she knew every place that she had been hurt, and that she knew that the abuse was going to be evident. She also, despite all her own pain, thought of Sherlock's pain, she knew he was blaming himself for what had happen to her and that every bruise, every scar would just encourage him to lay more guilt upon himself. She had to take this very slow.

"Before I show you," Joan said, still not turning to face him. "You must remember, that this isn't your fault. Sherlock can you hear me? This is not your fault in the least, our home is the safest place I could have been alone."

"I shouldn't have even left you alone, after everything that has happened in the past few weeks… I should have never left your side." It was obvious he was torturing himself, and that hurt Joan almost more than anything she was physically dealing with at the moment.

"No! No, Sherlock, you can't think like that. You thought all the danger was gone, we both thought we were safe, that it was over."

_It is almost as if she knows who is responsible, as if she knows it was Moriarty. _As he thought this, Sherlock considered telling Joan what he had learn, but as he watched her shiver and whimper from the pain that shot through her body, even with a small movement, and decided against it. He would have to tell her eventually, but not now, he looked up at her weak little frame. Definitely not now.

"Sherlock? Do you understand me?" Joan interrupted Sherlock's current train of thought yanking him back into the present moment.

"Yes… yes Joan. I will not blame myself." _But I also will never forgive myself. _He swore to her that she would never be hurt by Moriarty and he had failed her.

"Okay…" He watched her inhale deeply and turn her face in his direction. She refused to look him in the eye, she knew what her face must look like. She cringed as she couldn't help remembering what happened.

XXXXX

When the intruder opened her door, she assumed it was Sherlock and was about to launch into yet another lecture about personal space, but the words frozen in her throat when she look up and saw a man she didn't know standing in the entrance way. His presence alone made her tense and as he approached her instinct to escape took root. Unfortunately, not fast enough. He slapped her hard across the face with so much force that she flew across the bed.

"Hello love." The man laughed. He grabbed a handful of Joan's hair and used it to pull her face up to his and aggressively crushed his lips against hers. Joan dug her nails into the monster cheek and felt the blood drip over her fingers, he simply laughed at her efforts. "Now I see what Holmes see in you love. You are certainly a feisty one." Joan continued to struggle to get out of his grip but it was pointless, she was clearly over powered. Next thing she knew, her hands were tied to the headboard, her clothes stripped off. She attempted to kick him away and as a response he snapped one of her ankles. Joan screamed out in pain as the beast laughed, squeezing the shattered bone as she writhed to get out of his grip. On every single part of her body he touched she felt a bruise forming. He wanted to leave physical evidence, lots of evidence. Just as Joan began to believe that it couldn't possibly get worse, she received a horrid shock. The man bent over her and sunk his teeth into both her breast, breaking the skin and causing blood to flow down her body. Again she screamed out in pain, only to have him slide down her body and do the same to each of her hips. Tears began to stream down Joan's face, everything hurt, every surface of her body, every inch. Finally, he positioned himself over her and put his mouth to her ear and whispered, "A gift love. From the new Moriarty." And with that he thrust into her.

He had left as suddenly as he had entered. Before his exit he grabbed her phone and kissed her forehead. "Don't you miss me too much now love." He laughed and walked out the door, leaving her bound and weeping, praying for Sherlock come home and save her.

XXXXX

"Joan!" Sherlock shouted, firmly but gently. Waking Joan from her dark memories. She looked up at him as he reach ouy and gently caressed the bruise that created a mask over her eyes and nose. She winced in pain and pulled away. "Oh Joan… Joan I'm so sorry… I-I didn't mean…" Sherlock moved quickly away, uncharacteristically cowering.

"No… no it's fine…" Joan whispered, regaining her composure. "Are you ok?"

"Yes… yes of course…" He replied. Reluctantly, Joan showed Sherlock her arms covered in hand shaped bruises, her wrists with the rope burns, her neck bruised and coated with sores, her now deformed, broken ankle and hand-print covered legs, and finally her torso including the four bites covered with a layer of dried blood. Sherlock had not realized he was holding his breath until the shock of the blood forced it out of him like a punch in the gut. Seeing her body in full light, Joan began to weep once again, causing Sherlock's heart to shatter. "Joanie… sweet, beautiful Joanie… please don't cry. I'll get this bastard." He swore to her. "And when I find him… I'll kill him."


	3. Chapter 3

*Disclaimer: I do not own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

"Joan… I am going to call Gregson now and have him come down with some EMTs to have you officially looked over, ok?" Sherlock whispered into her hair as she rested against his chest. Reluctantly she agreed and let Sherlock slide out of the bed to wander into the hall to make the call. While on the phone he continually peered back into the room, as if to make sure she hadn't simply vanished into thin air. Joan heard the phone snap closed and Sherlock reentered the room.

"Gregson will be here in about forty minutes. Until then I suggest you try to get some rest. Your body has gone through a lot of… stress… today and must be seeking some kind of comfort."

"I am not sleeping in here." Joan replied immediately. "I don't believe I will be able to comfortably sleep in here again for a very long time… if ever." Sherlock nodded, understanding her perfectly, he had similar feeling about living happily in London after Irene's death, though the feelings had recently changed upon the discovery of her not only alive, but also, a complete fraud.

"Well then, you will sleep elsewhere. Perhaps my room?" Sherlock offered. Joan weakly smiled at the suggestion, he rarely slept there anyway so it wasn't much of a sacrifice, but it was still sweet.

"Sherlock… I want to be near you. You make me feel safe." After the events of her day, her previous nervousness about admitting any sort of affection for Sherlock was completely forgot. She needed him and she knew it. Sherlock's mouth formed into a shape similar to a smile, although it was held down by the guilt and sorrow he felt and at seeing the once strong, independent Watson so needy and helpless.

"I will let nothing ever hurt you again, I swear it. However, to easy your mind, I suppose you could rest on the couch. I can better keep an eye on you there anyway." Sherlock exited the room, returning quickly so to prevent Watson from any form of anxiety, brought her his robe and helped her slide it on while trying to move as little as possible. "I am sure you want to get cleaned up and dress properly but I am afraid that will not be possible until after the EMTs have finished with you. Until then, this will have to do." When she thought he wasn't looking, Joan covered her nose with the fabric and deeply inhale the sent. Firewood and spices, mixing together to form that unique Sherlock smell. That sent alone brought her comfort. After covering herself, she attempted to slide off the bed and winced as a searing pain shot through her deformed ankle.

"Stop right there!" Sherlock said, pushing her back as gently as possible by her shoulders. "We cannot have you trying to walk around, simply breathing causes you pain. Here… put your arm around my neck... and allow me to personally chauffeur you down stairs." As if picking up a baby bird, Sherlock softly scooped her into his arm, securely wrapping one arm about her shoulders and the other under her knees. Joan often forgot how truly strong Sherlock was, despite her numerous injuries, he managed to carry her from her room, down the stairs, to the parlor, and place her on the couch without causing her even the slightest bit of pain and also keeping her steady enough that she did not jostle as they descended the staircase. After having laid her down on the couch, he gently lifted her head and back to place a pillow down, tucked a blanket around her and dragged the coffee table closer, providing her easy access to the buffet of teas, water, aspirin, and crackers he had created for her.

"Thank you Sherlock, I know this isn't easy on you…" She was interrupted by the detective softly pressing two fingers against her lips.

"Sssshhhh now. You need not worry about anyone but yourself at this moment. Close your eyes and try to sleep. I will wake you up when the Captain arrives." And despite herself, Joan did doze off under the watchful gaze of her protector, who sat in a chair placed next to her head, and did not move until he heard the knocks on the door.

"Holmes!" Gregson's booming voice called from behind the door. Sherlock rushed to open it, glared at the Captain pressing a finger to his lips.

"Will you keep your voice down! She has been through enough without you startling her awake." Sherlock hissed.

"Oh… Geez I'm sorry Holmes. Where is she?" Sherlock directed the Captain and the two EMTs to the parlor and carefully sat back in his chair. Gregson, who had seen countless dead bodies, and the EMTs, who had seen unnumbered victims of limitless accidents and tragedies, all dropped their jaws with just one look in Watson's direction. Her black and blue mask was the most obvious example of the torture she had been through, but the sleeves of Sherlock's robe had ridden up as she slept, revealing the handprints that covered her arms and the cord burns on her wrists. "Please control our reactions before I wake her." Sherlock snapped, caused them to each quickly close their mouths. "She does not need the extra reminders of the extent of the physical damage." Ever so gently, he stroked Joan's hair and whispered softly in her ear, "Joan… darling wake up… Gregson is here… wake up Joanie…"

Gregson fought hard against his reaction to seeing Sherlock so tender, so gentle and to hearing his use of endearments so openly. Of course, he had had no trouble discovering just how attached Watson and Holmes had become to each other, but it was not because of public displays but rather simply knowing Holmes well enough to see the changes in his personality when he was with Watson. Small things. He was slightly more considerate at crime scenes, keeping what he said and how he said it in check (well as in check as anything coming out of Holmes' mouth could possibly be). He was more cautious, always entering a room before Watson, even just one step, so to be able to protect her if necessary. And other things along those lines, but this… this was completely out of character for him.

Joan slowly stirred and woke. The first thing out of her mouth was a slightly panicked, "Sherlock?!" before he gently squeezed her hand and reassured her of his presence. Once comforted, she turned her attention to the visitors.

"Captain." She said to acknowledge his presence. Gregson was not the obsessive investigator that Holmes was, but even he could immediately tell the difference in her voice after just one word. She sounded crushed, weak, and terrified, although her face, despite the slight evidence of previously cried tears, was emotionless yet polite.

"Ms. Watson," He replied trying to remain professional. "These two people are EMTs. They are going to look you over and help all they can with the pain and the healing of your injuries. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions while they work or would you prefer I wait until they are done?"

"I would prefer to get this all over with as quickly as possible. All I ask is that you stand with your back to me while they work, for… obvious reasons." She replied tensely, she just wanted to shower and try to wash everything away under the hot cascades, but she knew all of this was necessary to catch the monster.

"Of course Ms. Watson," Gregson turned around immediately as the male and female EMTs approached her. Sherlock helped her to stand up, and supported most of her weight so to keep it off her bum ankle. Joan answered all of the questions, providing the detective with a nearly step-by-step of the morning's events. She could feel Sherlock tensing as he heard the account for the first time and she gently stroked his arm trying to comfort him and distract him from the guilt she knew he was piling upon himself.

"And he said "A gift. From the new Moriarty."' She recounted, and Sherlock nearly dropped her.

"He said that to you." He breathed, staring straight into her eyes.

"Yes. Sherlock what did he mean?" Joan tied the robe closed as the EMTs finished and Sherlock helped her sit down so the female could attempt to wrap her ankle, apologizing every time Joan winced.

"Ms. Watson, we believe someone has taken over Moriarty's empire and also taken on the name itself." Gregson replied, turning back to face her.

"The man who called me on the phone said he was Moriarty. The same man who attacked you." Sherlock said.

"Well then here." Joan said holding out her right hand to Gregson. "You should find DNA under my nails. Skin and blood samples, from when I clawed his face. I purposely kept my hand away from any of his touching, figuring the samples would be useful." Sherlock and Gregson stared dumbfounded. Then Sherlock, to everyone's amazement including his own, kissed Joan on the lips briefly but powerfully.

"Watson!" He acclaimed. "Sometimes you shock even me. Despite everything he was putting you through, you managed to get and retain a DNA sample. You are truly brilliant." Joan's sad eyes beamed as brightly as they could at the compliment, and she blush deeply.

"I learned from the best." She whispered, embarrassed but pleased.


	4. Chapter 4

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters.*

Sherlock showed the EMTs to the door. After receiving a promise from him that Watson would take the painkillers they recommended, they left for the car. Despite her attempts to refuse, Sherlock forced her to accept, assuring her that he was in absolutely no risk of a relapse. "I have far too much respect for you to risk disappointing you, especially in your time of need." Sherlock had whispered in her ear, gently kissing her hair.

Gregson lagged behind in the room with Watson, Sherlock had tucked her back in on her "bed" before he had left the parlor and she was beginning to doze off as Gregson approached the couch. He knelt down by Joan's head and softly touched her hair. Joan's eyed fluttered open and she turned towards him and shyly smiled.

"Um… hello Toby?" She looked at him quizzically. Sherlock was about to walk into the room but upon seeing Captain Gregson caressing Watson's face he froze in the doorway. Jealousy flowed through his veins, what could Gregson possibly be doing _that_ close to her? He swallowed his emotions and chose to watch and only to intervene if that was what Joan wanted. If she wanted this, he wouldn't ruin it. He loved her too much.

"Joanie…"Gregson whispered. "I am so sorry this happened to you." Joan blushed timidly in embarrassment at Gregson's attentiveness. "I have been thinking… since the new Moriarty knows he can find you here… maybe… maybe you should stay somewhere else. Maybe my place?" Sherlock nearly ran in to rip Gregson's head off. How could he possible think taking her away from _him _was better for her? He didn't know Joan like Sherlock did, he couldn't protect her with the same passion that Sherlock could. A disturbing thought suddenly passed through his head… did Joan want to leave? He noticed that she had not immediately given a reply. How would he survive without her? He needed her and he knew it. He suddenly felt desperate, he needed to know her answer.

"Oh… Toby… I…" Joan stuttered, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. Had Captain Gregson really just asked her to move in with him? To leave Sherlock? She just couldn't do that. Joan took a deep breath and placed her hand on his arm. "Look Toby, it is a really sweet offer and thank you for caring but I just can't. There is no where I would rather be or where I would be safer than here with Sherlock." She smiled warmly when she said his name, a smile that did not escape Gregson's or Sherlock's attention. _She wants to stay_, Sherlock thought excitedly. Now confident in himself and in Joan's feeling, Sherlock entered the room and cleared his throat.

"Am I interrupting something?" Sherlock asked innocently. Gregson quickly stood up and step away from the couch and Joan turned to look at him. She smiled at him as if his very presence made her world keep spinning, to the point that if it weren't for the bruise across her face, one would have trouble believing the hell she had suffered just a few hours earlier. That smile melted Sherlock's heart and he couldn't fight it as he walked over to her and gently kissed the top of her head. "Feeling any better Joan? Those drugs kicking in yet?"

"Maybe…" She laughed softly, turning to face him better as he sat back in his chair next her. The sudden movement shot a quick, sharp pain through her side causing her to wince and whimper softly. Sherlock's smile disappeared and he quickly reached towards her but didn't touch her, unsure where to place his hands without hurting her more. "Ok. So maybe they haven't taken their full effect yet." She responded trying to keep the mood light. "Really, I am fine." She gently caressed Sherlock's arm, helping him to calm down. Gregson cleared his throat, interrupting the moment that was clearly forming between the victim and her protector.

"Well, I am going to head back to the precinct and start working on this case with Bell. Will I see you there tomorrow?" Gregson looked directly at Sherlock, he knew there was no way he was sitting on the sidelines for this one.

"Um… actually I don't believe I will be joining you for a few days." Sherlock responded.

"What?!" Gregson and Joan shouted together.

"Joan, someone needs to stay here with you until you can be up and around without hurting yourself. And even then I am taking you with me where ever I go until you feel safe again." Joan smiled at Sherlock with an emotion Sherlock did not quite recognize, and he had made an extensive study of all of Watson's facial expressions. Was it adoration? Thankfulness? Or maybe love? He could only hope.

"Sherlock, are you sure about this?" Joan asked. "You are going to get bored. And I know how much you loathe being bored." Sherlock smiled at her.

"I will not be bored. You have already proven that you are completely dependent at the present moment which means I will be so busy that I won't have time to be bored." Joan smiled and let it go. She liked the idea of having Sherlock all to herself for a few days.

"Alright then. I guess I will see you when I see you." Gregson said heading towards to the door. "Keep me in the loop because I know that you will not be just sitting here. So if you figure anything out, call me. Oh and Joan… my offer still stands if you change your mind." Sherlock tensed as Gregson bent down and kissed Joan's head softly. "Stay safe and get some rest." Joan smiled politely as Gregson and Sherlock exchanged head nods and Gregson left. Sherlock watched him until he walked out the door than he turned back to Watson, pasting on a smile trying to hide his jealousy.

"So… you want to get cleaned up now? Take a shower and put on some clean clothes." Sherlock knew that Joan would want to do something that felt normal to hopefully help her feel more like herself again.

"Absolutely!" Sherlock smiled and scooped her up in his arms and carried her back up the stairs to the bathroom. He set her down on the closed toilet and turned on the shower. Once the water was running hot and the curtain was closed he turned back to Watson.

"So… um… how do you propose we do this?" Joan was shocked to see Sherlock so uncomfortable. This was going to be slightly acquired, she was well aware of that, but she was going to try her best to ignore it.

"I think I just need help getting physically in the shower. I believe I will be able to bathe myself once I am in there." Joan couldn't meet his eye as she tried to stand up. She couldn't stand very long before her ankle began to bother her and she sat back down.

"Hold on just one moment." Sherlock darted out of the bathroom and returned with an old plastic chair.

"Where did you get that?" Joan asked. She had never seen it around the house before.

"Junk room." He shrugged.

"Oh, of course." Joan said sarcastically. Everyone keeps a junk room in their home. Sherlock pulled off his shirt to keep it dry, pushed the curtain aside and placed the chair in the shower, letting the water flow over it.

"Now you can sit down and still get clean." Sherlock smile triumphantly and Joan couldn't help but smile back. Sherlock approached her carefully. "I will not hurt you Joanie. You know that don't you?"

"Yes. I trust you Sherlock." Joan stared straight into his eyes and shed Sherlock's robe. Sherlock very carefully picked Joan up never taking his eyes from hers. She cherished the feel of skin against skin, and despite her efforts to hide it she shivered at the sensation. He gently placed her on the chair and closed the curtain and dried himself off with the towel. He could hear her gasp and the water stung the open wounds on her wrists, hips, and breasts, and he fought the urge to just reach back into the shower, pull her into his chest, and protect her from any form of pain, but even _he_ knew that was unreasonable.

"Joan?"

"Yes?"

"Do you want me to go get your clothes?" Sherlock figured she would not want to return to the setting of her nightmare.

"Yes please." She responded after a moments deliberations. She heard him leave the room and tried to relax under the waters. Sherlock was there to protect her and for the first time in hours she felt safe. She was still scared, but she was safe. Sherlock kept her safe.


	5. Chapter 5

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

"Sherlock!" Joan called from the shower. She had finally given up on the concept of relaxing. Sure a few of her muscles had soothed but every time she looked at her wrists or any part of her body she immediately tensed back up. Well at least she was clean. "Sherlock!" She shouted again. She had never had to call his name more than once to come get her before, normally he just came running. And if he could hear her thoughts, Joan could hear him opening the bathroom door.

"I am sorry… I was… lost in thought," He replied.

"It is fine. I'm as clean as I am going to get, so I guess it is time to get out." Sherlock reached an arm into the shower and shut off the water. He removed his arm only to return it, this time holding out a towel to Joan.

"Thank you." Joan took the towel and carefully stood to dry her body quickly before she lost her strength. She wobbled a little once she was finished, but she was proud that she had lasted long enough to no longer feel damp. "Sherlock, could you…" Before she could finish, Sherlock's arm shot back into the shower with his robe draped over it. "Thank you, again." She said with a small smile, he was back to not missing a beat. Once she had the robe securely tied around her waist, she pulled the curtain aside and handed Sherlock back the towel.

Sherlock slung the towel over his shoulder and without hesitating he reached over and scooped Joan back into his arms, much to her relief, he could see her strength was beginning to fault, not that she was going to let it show. At some point during her shower, Sherlock had brought two chairs into the bathroom. How had she not heard that? He gently placed her in one, and sat behind her in the other, and pulling the towel off is shoulder, Sherlock began to gently dry her hair.

"Walking around with wet hair is a sure way to catch a cold," He whispered in her ear. Once her hair was nearly dry, Sherlock grabbed her hairbrush from the counter and began to carefully run it through her hair. It was such a simple, yet intimate gesture and Joan simply didn't know how to respond, so she just sat there and enjoyed the softness of his fingers in her hair. When her hair was completely brushed out, Sherlock stood and picked her back up. Joan noticed that there were no clothes in the bathroom. What that why he left? She looked up at him to question but he was already carrying her out of the bathroom and walking down the hall. To her surprise, he carried her into his room and gently sat her down on the edge of his bed next to what appeared to be some of her clothes, laid out into five different outfits. Joan looked up at Sherlock quizzically and notice the frustration on his face.

"I… I couldn't decide on what you would want to wear…" It was clear that this "not knowing," this inability to deduce was driving him crazy. She worried for a moment, it was slightly unnerving to see Sherlock so out of his element. She smiled up at him as sweetly has she could manage and gently reached up to squeeze his hand.

"Of course you couldn't deduce what I wanted to wear, because I don't even know what I want wear," Sherlock smile reluctantly at her, he knew she was trying to help.

"Well, going ahead and pick an outfit. I will fold up whichever ones you don't want and we can keep them in here, so you don't have to go fetch them tomorrow." Joan nodded, knowing he was trying to help her avoid her room. She loved that he was worried about her, she loved everything about him.

Her eyes browsed over the selection Sherlock had laid out for her. One was a pair of pajamas, straight from the store, the kind she use to wear when she worked as a sober company, the kind that covered everything. The next was a pair of her "homemade" pajamas, just an old, oversized t-shirt and a pair of clothe shorts, the kind of pajamas she had worn in her own apartment and had begun to sleep in at the Brownstone when it had official became her home. The third was her lounge clothes, a pair of jogging pants, a cami, and an old sweatshirt, next to that was a pair of jeans and a turtle-neck sweater, and the last was a classic 'Joan' outfit, legging and a skirt, along with a nice tank top and a cardigan. She quickly glanced out the window, surprised that it was already dusk, and decided to grab her classic pajamas.

"Sherlock nodded and quickly removed the other outfit and hung them up in his closet. Slightly embarrassed, Sherlock turned to Joan and handed over her underclothes off his dresser. She blushed softly and took them from him.

"I guess I will wait in the hall," Sherlock said turning to leave.

"Wait! I might need your help. Could you just stand with your back to me? Just in case." Sherlock nodded and remained in where he was, not turning to look at her. Joan slowly peeled off his robe, quickly inhaling the scent off it one more time before pushing it to the side. She managed her underclothes relatively easy, only wince once when the back of her bra pressed against one her bruises, but that was quickly rectified with a little adjusting. She even managed her shorts, standing just long enough to pull them on before flopping back down on the bed. The shirt, however, became a problem. She couldn't lift her arms enough to pull in on over her head, she had already stressed those muscles enough trying to wash her hair in the shower.

"Um… Sherlock… I need help with my shirt." Sherlock turned a momentarily stared at his associate, sitting on his bed in her clothe shorts and a bra. It was nothing special, Sherlock had just grabbed the first one he found in her drawer. It was a plain, white cotton bra, not sexy, or made of lace, or provocative in anyway, yet to him it triggered a sensation in him that he couldn't control. She had just been assaulted? How could he even allow such thoughts to pass through his mind? Sherlock quickly shook his head, banishing the thought and approached Joan to help her. Gently he pulled the extra-large shirt over her head, then carefully maneuvered her arms through the sleeve holes. He let his fingers to softly graze her skin down the sides of her waist before letting the fabric fall out of his grip and stepping away from her, away from temptation.

"There you are," He said, his fists clenched at his side as he bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to fight the tension.

"Thank you," Joan smiled shyly at him, trying to find a blush. She looked so adorable when she blushed, Sherlock noticed, almost as adorable as when she giggled. He frowned, wondering how long it would be until he heard her giggle again. _Bastard_, he silently cursed when he thought of Moriarty. "I am a little hungry…" Joan said, pulling Sherlock back into the present moment. "I haven't really eaten all day. Neither have you come to think of it. You shouldn't let yourself get sick. Come, let's go down stairs and find something to eat."

"Oh of course! I am sorry, you must be starving… I have neglected you…" Sherlock quickly reached down, scooped her up, and headed for the stairs.

"You have hardly neglected me," Joan said nesting her head in his shoulder as they went down the stairs. "I hadn't noticed I was hungry until a few moments ago, and truly I just want something light… just to be safe, you know…" Sherlock understood her perfectly, no need to push her body, trauma had the tenancy to effect all parts of the body.

About a half an hour later, Joan was tucked back into her makeshift bed on the couch eating a bowl of soup with Sherlock sitting on the floor by her head enjoying his own bowl. One of the many TVs was on, but mostly for background sound, neither of them were exactly sure what was happening on the screen. When she finished her soup, Sherlock took their bowls into the kitchen and began to tidy things up, and Joan picked up the book she always kept on the coffee table, but she didn't see the words on the page, no matter how much she stared. Finally she gave up and slammed the book back down on the table, a bit harder than she meant to, catching Sherlock's attention. He peered into the parlor from the kitchen, staring at her with a curious, yet worried expression on her face. Meeting his eyes, she bite her lip embarrassed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to… sorry." Sherlock nodded at her and quickly finished in the kitchen before returning to his chair by her side.

"Do… do you want to talk?" Sherlock offered.

"No, no. I'm fine, but thank you. I promise, if I change my mind you will be the first to know."

"Well then, perhaps it is time you tried to get some rest. I promise I will be here when you wake up, but right now your body needs to reboot, so to speak." Reluctantly, Joan nodded and snuggled down under the blanket, getting as comfortable as her injuries would allow her.

"Good night Sherlock."

"Good night Joanie." He whispered. He gently kissed her forehead and watched her as she started to drift off. As soon as he was certain that she would not hear him, he bent close to her ear and breathed, "I love you, Joanie. I will keep you safe and no one will ever harm you again as long as I live."


	6. Chapter 6

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

It was dark. Unnervingly dark.

Joan was lying naked on her bed, arms tied above her head. Despite her struggles she could not break free.

"Hello love, I have a gift for you." A voice breathed. Joan's head shot up and she was met by the death stare of two menacing eyes. One deep green with a small speck of gold, the other deep blue like a storming sea and just as terrifying. "You. Are. Mine. Love." The monster growled. Joan could feel tears spill over the rims of her eyes as she struggled against her bonds and the devil's grip. Suddenly, just as she was about to give up, a new figure burst through the door.

"Sherlock!" Joan shouted, half relieved, half terrified for his life.

"Aw yes. Holmes…" The dark eyes smiled in the darkness. "I have a gift for you as well." Suddenly the demon had a gun in his hand, and before a word could be uttered, a shot rang out and Sherlock fell to the ground.

"NO!" Joan screamed, tears streaming down her face, as she abruptly sat up. A layer of sweat cover her body as she began to shake with fear.

"Joan?!" Sherlock asked only half conscious, having been startled awake by her scream. The minute his eyes fell on her he shot out of the arm chair he had fallen asleep in and ran to her side, kneeling before her, and gently squeezing her hand. "Joan?! What's wrong? What hurts? What happened?"

"Sherlock?" Joan whispered, upon meeting his eyes she gently reached up to stroke his face. He was here, he was alive. It was just a dream. Tears of relief began to stream down her face as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into an embrace. "You're alright. You're alright." She chanted through her tears.

"Of course I am alright. I am right here. Everything is fine," He told her gently, stroking her hair trying to comfort her. "Ssssshhhhh Joanie. You are safe, I am still here. It's okay." He kissed her hair and rocked her until her tears finally stopped falling. Sherlock carefully pulled her away from his chest, meeting her eyes and he cradled her face between his hands. "What happened?"

"It… it was just a nightmare…" Joan whimpered, trying to calm her breathing after her frantic sobs.

"You want to tell me about it?"

"It was… was just a memory of what happened…" She kept the most terrifying part of the dream to herself, cringing as the image of Sherlock dead on the floor ran through her thoughts. Sherlock knew she wasn't tell him everything, but he decided, rather uncharacteristically, not to push her any further.

"Can I get you anything? A glass of water, tea?" Dropping his hands from her face and instead gently placing his hand over hers in her lap.

"Tea would be nice," Joan whispered, running her fingers through her hair, willing her heart to shift out of overdrive. Sherlock nodded and stood up, still holding Joan's hand. He hesitated once both of their arms were extended as they kept their hands intertwined, and gazed at her, eyes fully of worry. She gave him a small smile that didn't meet her eyes but still provided him with enough confidence to feel it was safe to leave her alone. He squeezed her hand gently before letting it go and proceeding to the kitchen.

When he returned, carrying a tray with a cup of tea for both of them and a little toast for her to nibble on, he found Joan hunched over a sketchbook, completely engrossed in her project. He had seen her doodling in it before, but never quite with the same focus and determination she now threw into the drawing. He approached the couch and carefully placed the tray on the coffee table before pulling a chair next to her to watch her work.

"Who is that?" Sherlock asked suddenly, making Joan jump. She hadn't realized he was back. "Oh, I'm sorry Joan. I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's fine." Joan said turning back to her sketch. She reached into the pencil box she kept with the sketch book and began to color to the face she had recreated from memory. The last detail, one green eye and one blue. She held it up for Sherlock to examine. "I would like to introduce you to… Moriarty."

XXXXX

They both sat on the couch staring at the "crime wall," as Joan deemed it. Just with any case they worked on, they had taped every bit of evidence they had up on the wall for better examination. The evidence included papers from the latest Moriarty case, the results of the DNA test which had, much to Joan's dismay, turn out practically useless, it provide them with a name, Marcus Delar, but his record was completely clean, he wasn't real, and finally in the center of the wall was Watson's hand drawn portrait of her attacker.

"I can't believe I tried so hard to preserve that DNA only to have it be worthless," Joan groaned, leaning her head back on the couch and covering her eyes with her arms.

"It was _not_ worthless," Sherlock assured her. "Not only did you prove yourself to be a brilliant detective by obtaining evidence while in danger, but you also provided us with one of our new Moriarty's aliases, bringing us one step closer to the man himself. A crime is like a piece of music and each piece of evidence is a music note, although in the big picture a single note appears insignificant, without it the music would not flow properly. The same can be said of evidence, every piece, no matter how small or seemingly unimportant, is necessary to understand the crime as a whole." Joan removed her arms and peeked out of him, a small smile dancing on her lips.

"Did you just think of that or did you read it somewhere?"

"Is anything I say unoriginal my dear Watson?" Sherlock answered smiling down at her sweetly. Joan laughed softly causing Sherlock's smile to widen. It was not quite a giggle, the pitch was off and it wasn't as relaxed and carefree as he would have enjoyed, but it was still Joan and she was laughing. It was a step in the right direction to getting the old Joan back and that was enough to make him happy. With a small sigh Joan laid her head on Sherlock's chest and closed her eyes. "Tired?" Sherlock asked.

"Mm-hm…" Joan nodded not opening her eyes, snuggling against his body, enjoying his warmth. Sherlock chuckled softly to himself and wrapped one arm around her body cautiously, knowing she must still be sore, and kissed the top of her head.

"Well I guess we could both do with a quick nap," Sherlock whispered, but Joan was already asleep. He gently rested his head on top of her and held her close. In his arms he knew she was safe, he could protect her from any and all dangers, and with that wonderful thought in mind he dozed off.

"How sweet you look." A voice said, causing Sherlock to snap his eyes open and clutch Joan closer to his body. Standing in front of him was the flesh of Joan's sketch, a green eye, a blue eye, and four long scratches along the left cheek, the man himself… Moriarty. "It is truly a pleasure to see you Mr. Holmes, and I can't tell you how much I have missed you beautiful friend." Mr. Delar's eyes feel upon Joan, curled up in Sherlock's arms looking perfectly at peace. Her cheeks had a slight blush and her hair cascaded like a waterfall over her back and Sherlock's chest. Sherlock practically growled as he saw the man's eyes roam over Joan's body as if she were a piece of meat.

"I should kill you right now you bastard," Sherlock spat at the monster. He just laughed.

"Oh come now Holmes. I didn't do anything you haven't done." Sherlock's eye glowed with hatred and his faced went fifty shades of red, and suddenly Moriarty laughed out loud. "Oh bloody hell! You have never touched her have you?" The man's laugh grew stronger and Sherlock glanced down at Joan, gently running his fingers over her hair. "Oh that is rich. What a joy… I have been somewhere you haven't. Trust me Holmes, after me, you will never be able to satisfy her." With that Sherlock jumped off the couch, waking Joan from the sudden movement. The minutes her eyes met Delar's she whimpered and cowered in a ball on the couch, sobs beginning to rack her body and she fought the urge to run upon seeing the star of her nightmares standing in her living room. Sherlock lunged at Delar but he was faster. He darted for the door with Sherlock on his heels, but somehow the minute he walked out the front door he disappeared. Sherlock ran down the front steps, searching frantically when he heard something that made him completely forget about the monster.

"Sherlock!" Joan cried, "Come back! Sherlock, please don't leave me alone!" Idiot! Sherlock thought to himself. He had sworn not to leave her, and with that he darted back into the Brownstone, ran straight to the couch, scooped Joan into his arms and sat back down on the couch. Joan made herself as tiny as possible, practically burying herself in his body. Sherlock held her tightly as he pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed.

"Gregson… he was here… he was just standing in our parlor… Moriarty,"


	7. Chapter 7

*Disclaimer: I do not own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

For the second time in less than thirty-six hours, Gregson was standing in Sherlock's parlor, asking question and taking statements. When he knocked on the door he was surprised that, rather than aggressively yanking it open, Sherlock simply asked who it was and upon confirming that it was in fact Gregson through a series of obscure questions, asked him just to walk in. And, again for the second time, he fought to hide his shock when he walked into the parlor to see Sherlock sitting on the couch with Joan in his lap, cradled against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her. Sherlock was never one to be intimate with anyone, and even if he were, he was definitely not one to publically display it to others. Yet, here he was, holding Joan in as intimate of a position as Gregson wanted to imagine. Sherlock had looked up as Gregson entered the room, his face as grave as death, he nodded to the Captain then leaned down to whisper something in Joan's ear. Her eyes flicked up quickly to acknowledge Gregson's presence then she pulled herself tighter into Sherlock's chest, hiding her face like a painfully shy child when meeting a stranger.

"Hey! I got here as soon as I could." Bell said as he walked into the room. "Traffic was a pain in the…" He fell silent as his eyes fell upon the consultant and his partner curled up on the couch. The preliminary shock was the intimacy but as he looked closer, he noticed the condition of Joan's arms and legs, and finally he got a glimpse of the bite mark on her hip from where her oversized shirt had been pulled up by Sherlock's grasp around her. His eyes widened and he gasped, catching Sherlock's attention. Following his line of sight, Sherlock immediately pulled Joan's shirt down and glared dangerously at Bell.

"QUIT STARING!" Sherlock snapped. Gregson elbowed Bell in the gut and gave him a meaning full glance. Bell quickly got a hold of himself and tried to act professional, striving to forget how personal the case really was. After everything was dusted down and photographed, and every question had been asked and every answer documented, the police began to move out, all except Gregson and Bell.

"I am sorry you two, but it is obvious you are not stay here. You are going to have to live elsewhere until we get this all figured out." Gregson said. Sherlock only nodded, but the statement seemed to have woken Joan from her trance.

"I am not going anywhere without Sherlock," Joan whimpered, her grip on his shirt tightening as her eyes shifted to all of their faces frantically, tears beginning to form once again.

"Ssssshhhhh," Sherlock soothed, holding her tighter. "Don't worry darling. I am not letting you out of my sight, I swear." He gently kissed the top of her head as both the detectives flinched at his easy use of the endearment. A hotel was called and a room reserved for the two of them and once everything was settled, Bell offered to drive them to the hotel. Sherlock stood, keeping Joan tight in his arms, pressed against his chest, and he carried her out to the car and gently placed her in the backseat before walking around to the other side and sliding in.

XXXXX

Joan sat on the small sofa in the center of the suite, her arms wrapped around her knees, clenching them tightly to her chest, as she stared blankly at the television that Sherlock had turned on some hours ago. Sherlock sat in an arm chair on the opposite side of the room, staring at the woman he loved, the room service he had ordered sitting on the table in front of her growing colder, remaining completely untouched. They had checked into their room exactly six hours, fourteen minutes, and fifty-eight seconds ago, and in that time Joan had only spoken when directly spoken to and only in monosyllable words. He much has Sherlock loved Joan, as guilt has he felt for her pain, he was finding it more and more difficult to not be frustrated with her silence.

"Alright Watson, that is enough," Sherlock stood up and approached her, sitting on the sofa by her feet. He gently, but firmly, removed her arms from around her legs and pulled her legs into his lap, gently massaging her bare feet. She was not sure what startled her most, his voice breaking the silence or the suddenness of his contact, such an easy, thoughtless action, yet so very intimate.

"Enough what?" Joan asked, using more words than she had since they had arrived at the hotel.

"Enough of the silence, enough of the staring. Please, speak to me. Tell me what you are thinking, what do you need? How can I help you?" Sherlock urged her. Joan's gaze started to move away from Sherlock's but he reached up and grabbed her chin. "No, Joanie, look at me. Tell me what is wrong. Besides the obvious." Joan blinked back tears as she gazed into his eyes.

"I… I can't help thinking this is all my fault." Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but Joan held up her hand. "Please… you wanted me to talk so let me." Sherlock closed his mouth and gestured for her to continue. "This new Moriarty only has strength over you because I was weak. I should have studied those books on self-defense you gave me more intently, I should have taken the training you forced me through more seriously. I have allowed myself to become a weakness and a danger to you because of my own selfishness. If I had left like I was supposed to when our six weeks together were up, if I hadn't decided I would rather have no income than leave when you father decided you no longer needed my services, you would never have ended up in this situation. Gregson would have never suggested you sit out this case because it is "too personal," you would have never had the case at all. You would have probably never had to face this new Moriarty if it were not for me. Maybe I should have never stayed at all… you would be safer and you wouldn't have to be locked up in this stupid hotel room, stuck dealing with the one person who caused all the problems in the first place." Joan's voice gave out at the end of her speech as tears began to slide down her cheeks. Sherlock gently caressed her face, wiping away a few tears and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You are right," He whispered. Joan looked up at him, her eyes full of shock and pain. If she was right than he must not want her and at that realization, the tears began to fall more violently. Sherlock locked his eyes with her, refusing to let her look away, even for a moment. "You are right that I would have probably never faced this new Moriarty if it weren't because of you. Because if you hadn't stayed, I would have probably never caught the first Moriarty. And even if I had managed to find Irene without you and managed to discover that she was in fact Moriarty, I would have done one of two things. I would have either agreed to travel the world with her, thereby becoming a member of her empire, or I would have refused her and attempted to foil her plans to no success which, without you to point out what I could not see myself, would have eventually lead to my demise. This is all assuming that I would have been able to survive you leaving me in the first place, without relapsing or purposely overdosing." He cautiously leaned in and kissed her forehead, his lips lingering longer than necessary. "You are right that you are my weakness. But you are my weakness not because you hold be back but because you push me forward. I would not be able to go on without you, Joan. You are my weakness because…" Sherlock hesitated. Was this really the best time? He could not deduce how she would react to his confession and that made him extremely ill at ease.

"Because why, Sherlock?" She whispered, staring so deep into his eyes he swore she must be able to see his soul. Suddenly, he didn't care. He didn't fear her reaction. He took a deep breath and returned the gaze.

"You are my weakness because… because I love you, Joanie." He couldn't fight it, he leaned in and kissed her square on the lips before she could respond. At first, she was frozen with shock, and she simply sat there awkwardly as his lips pressed against hers, but then suddenly she seemed to forget everything, all the hell she had faced in the past two days, and she melted against his warmth, kissing him back.

"I love you too," She breathed as their lips broke away momentarily to suck up more oxygen before they met again, this time with Joan taking the lead.


	8. Chapter 8

*Disclaimer: I do not own Elementary, nor any character*

"Watson! Wake up!" Sherlock said walking into the bedroom of their suite. Joan moaned and rolled over turning away from the light of the one door, pulling the blanket tighter around her, frustrated that he had interrupted her wonderful dream. She knew Sherlock was trying to act normal by barging in to wake her up, but his voice was a bit softer than usual and less commanding. "Up! Up! We have somewhere to be, the sooner the better." Joan reluctantly pushed off the blanket, still wearing the pajamas Sherlock had helped her pick out since she had been too distracted the previous day to change. She reached her arms above her head and pointed her toes so to stretch but as just as she began to really enjoy the motion she winced and recoiled her body. Sherlock turn immediately from where he had been searching through her suitcase and in three strides was by her side, eyes wide with worry as he gazed at her.

"Are you alright?" Joan could her the edge of panic inching its way into his voice and, looking into his eyes, she began to wonder if she hadn't only dreamed about last night. Had he kissed her? Had he really confessed his love for her? And had she done the same? Trying to be indiscreet, Joan reached her hand up to her mouth as if to stifle a yawn and instead felt her lips, they were still slightly swollen. She smiled softly to herself, Sherlock had kissed her, and she was secretly thrilled. "Joan answered me," Sherlock said sitting beside her in the bed. "Are you okay? What hurts?"

"Oh… oh nothing," Joan stammered, being pulled from her thoughts of Sherlock wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close again. "I guess I am still just a bit sore," Sherlock smiled at her, relaxing a bit. He gently reached out to stroke her hair, softly caressing her cheek. Joan leaned her head into his hand, closing her eyes and smiling at his warmth.

"Did you sleep well?" Sherlock whispered sweetly, almost lovingly. Joan nodded still keeping her eyes closed. "Good," He leaned in and kissed her chastely on the lips, but that was not enough for Joan. She reached up and wrapped arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her as she crashed her lips against his. Sherlock hesitated in surprise but than softly chuckled against her lips and kissed her back. It began soft and warm, but suddenly it turned passionate and deeply heated. Sherlock tangled his fingers in her hair, pulling her lips tighter against his, and cautiously, despite his growing need, opened his mouth, touching his tongue to her lips, hoping to coax her into doing the same. To his surprise, Joan didn't need much coaxing, instead she responded immediately and allowed her tongue to dance with his. The second Sherlock felt his control falter, he pulled away. Joan whined reluctantly, attempting to pull him back to her. He let out a warm and deep chuckle and gently removed her arms from around her neck.

"As much as I would love to continue do this all day, and trust me my sweet Joan, I would _love_ to," Joan smiled up at him and started to reach for him again before her grabbed her wrists, careful of her now scarring wounds, to stop her. "However, we have an appointment that we simply cannot miss," To Joan's great disappointment, Sherlock stood up and went back to pulling clothes out of her suitcase.

"Are you sure we can just stay here?" She smiled, trying her best to sound flirty and sexy. She was never good at flirt but she knew what she wanted and she as going to try for it with all her might. Sherlock walked back to the bed and laid the outfit he had picked out for her across her feet, a pair of jeans and a turtleneck sweater, when she grabbed his hand. "Come on, Sherlock… please," Joan tried to make a flirty, pouty face which she thought must look hideous, but to her surprise Sherlock smiled and laughed softly.

"Aw, Joanie, don't do that to me," She carefully sat up, knowing that if she moved too fast she would wince and then she would never be able to convince Sherlock to touch her, and reached her lips up to his. She was so warm, and she smelled so sweet, like jasmine and roses, Sherlock found it hard to fight against his urge to be closer to her. He had to remind himself that she still need time, despite how she maybe acting now, she was still fragile, he had seen it yesterday when she cowered and shut down for hours. He allowed his lips to linger on hers a few moments longer before moving away. "Come on, darling. We have to go. Get showered and get dressed, I will have breakfast waiting when you are ready." He leaned down and kissed her softly and swiftly before turning and leaving the room. Joan sighed exasperated, then grabbed her clothes and headed to the bathroom.

XXXXX

Joan and Sherlock walked out of the hotel, both unknowingly fighting the urge to grab the other's hand.

"I will get us a taxi," Sherlock said, pulling a whistler out of his pocket and placed it against his lips. Right as he was about to blow into it, Joan ripped it from his lips and tucked it into his coat pocket.

"Please don't start that again. I'll get us the taxi," Sherlock noticed that Joan pulled the sleeve of her sweater into her palm, gripping it as she walked to the curb and raised her arm to attract attention, she was trying to prevent her scarring wrists from showing. Just as she had covered her entire face with make-up, a despite attempt to hide her mask of bruises that were just beginning to fade. Sherlock had once questioned how Joan always seemed capable to get cabs to stop, that was until he really began to see her. The tight sweater he had picked out, helped to emphasize what he had discovered. As she help up her arm, the sweater clung to Joan's every curve, emphasizing her slim waist and hugging against her breasts, it was no surprise that the first curb that drove down the street slammed to a stop directly in front of her. Joan turned to Sherlock and smiled sweetly, proud of herself. Sherlock smiled back and stepped forward to open the cab door for her.

"So where exactly are we going?" Joan asked after Sherlock had told the cab their destination purposely too soft for her to hear. Sherlock looked at her before carefully, trying to deduce how she would react to the answer.

"We are going to see Irene,"

"We… we are what?!" Joan shouted. Sherlock quickly grabbed her hand, hoping to prevent her from panicking too much.

"Joanie… Joanie, stay calm and hear me out,"

"Hear you out?! Sherlock you can't be serious?!" Joan ripped her hand out of his. How could he possibly want to go see _her_? "Sherlock, after everything… after what she did to you? After discovery who she really is? After… after what happened to me… Sherlock, why are we doing this?" Sherlock took Joan's hand back into his and held it tight against her struggle.

"Joan, please. First, we don't know for sure that Irene had anything to do with what happen to you." Joan opened her mouth to protest but Sherlock gently covered her mouth with his over hand. "Joanie… let me finish… I am not saying Irene is innocent but we presently have no proof that she is not guilty, and as your wonderful country likes to say everyone is innocent until proven guilty. Second, Irene was Moriarty and I am willing to bet she still has pull and a complete understanding of the inner workings of the empire. Perhaps she can provide us with some information," Joan took a deep breath and gazed at Sherlock trying to keep her emotions in check.

"Okay, so we go to see Irene and suppose she does have information. What in the world makes you think she is going to tell us anything?" Joan asked trying to remain as calm as possible.

"I can't guarantee anything, my dear Watson, but as I promised you… I'm going to get the bastard who did this to you and I am going to kill him," Joan glanced up at the cab driver, worried he may have overheard that last statement, but he was wearing headphones and listening to music so loud that she could almost hum the melody.

"Sherlock," Joan said slowly looking into his eyes. "Sherlock, I am scared. I am scared about what is going to happen when we see Irene. I am scared about not finding this new Moriarty and more than anything I am scared that you are going to find him and… and Sherlock I don't want you to get hurt or have you taken away from me…" Joan looked down at her hand wrapped in Sherlock's. Sherlock smiled and gently lifted her chin to make her look in his eyes.

"Joan, I am not going to leave you. I will never let anything hurt you and that includes me. I will never hurt you. I love you," Sherlock slowly leaned down and brushed his lips against hers.

"As I love you," Joan whispered against she lips, deepening the kiss. Sherlock pulled away gently and Joan groaned. "Why do you keep doing that? I thought you loved me," Joan challenged him.

"Of course I do, my wonderful Joanie," Sherlock placed his hand on her cheek and kissed her again then pulled away. "But I am not going to push my luck. You are a strong woman, Joan. Stronger than anyone else I have ever met, but you have been hurt and you need time to heal. I am just trying not to back you into a corner," Joan was about to retort when the cab came to a stop. "Looks like we are here," Sherlock opened the door and stepped out, offering Joan his hand. She took it timidly and once she was out of the taxi, Sherlock pulled her tight against his chest and gave her a quick peck on the lips. "You ready?"

"As ready as I am ever going to be,"

They walked into the prison and after signing in, were escorted to an interview room. Sitting behind a piece of glass, sat a slim, blonde women. Even in the orange jump she was beautiful, Joan couldn't deny it, as much as it hurt her ego. She gazed up at Sherlock shyly. He reached down and grabbed her hand, brought it to his lips, kissed it gently, before dragging her forward to the window. The women smiled at the sweetly as if they were old friends.

"Hello Sherlock, darling. Oh and you brought your pet, how are you Ms. Watson?" Irene seemed genuinely shocked to see her.

"Irene… we need to talk…" Sherlock said, cutting straight to the point, but Irene kept staring at Joan.

"Can I help you?" Joan said, a bit rougher than she had intended, but she was beginning to feel even more uncomfortable.

"Oh, I am sorry dear. It is just… I am surprised to see you. You know… alive. I gave very specific orders." Irene smiled wickedly, as Joan and Sherlock's mouths dropped open.


	9. Chapter 9

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

"You bitch!" Joan growled, suddenly standing up and charging the glass barrier, as Irene smiled, completely unaffected. Sherlock quickly reached up and wrapped his arms gently, but firmly, around her waist holding her back. He had never seen her react so strongly upon her emotions, he knew she had been to hell and back in just a few days, but it was still shocking.

"Joan… Joan!" Sherlock struggled to pull her back down into her seat before the guard noticed, they were NOT getting thrown out before his answers. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, forgetting for only a moment to be gently, but a moment was long enough. His arms pressed across a handful of fading, yet still sensitive bruises, and Joan was prepared to ignore the quick shock of pain, until his hand landed directly over the bite mark on her hip. Joan let out a small whimper of pain and jerked out of Sherlock's grasp, her hands flying over the wound, creating a barrier of protection. The moment he heard Joan in pain, he released her, filled with regret.

"Joan! Oh Joan… I'm so sorry! Joanie… please… I… I didn't mean to…" Joan held up her hand, eyes still screwed shut as the pain slowly subsided. Everything on her body, every bruise and the burns on her wrists, everything was healing except the bite marks. They were just too deep, she knew they were going to scar and she could do nothing to stop it. "Joanie… sweetheart…"

"Sherlock, it's… its fine," She said through gritted teeth. The pain finally fade and she looked up him, meeting his gaze, striving to hide any evidence from her eyes of the pain she had just faced. "I am fine, Sherlock. Really. I know you didn't mean to," She placed her hand on Sherlock's cheek affectionately, and Sherlock reached up and covered it with his own. Irene watched with disgust at the obvious display of affection. He had never been like that with her, of course it had all been a scheme to get into his head, but still they had loved each other. She tried to pretend she wasn't hurt that Sherlock's feeling for Joan must be strong than any he had felt for her. Frustrated, she decided to ruin their moment.

"Maybe he didn't but I did. So, _Joanie_," Irene sneered at the use of Watson's nickname. "Explain to me exactly how you managed to survive my assassin. My plan was perfect. I know that after a long case, Sherlock lets you sleep in later than usual and heads to the station without you. And I…"

"So you sent Delar to our home to kill me?" Joan stated more than asked. Irene glared at her, she did not like being interrupted, especially when she was explaining her brilliance.

"Yes, I sent Marcus to kill you. I guess I should not be surprised that you know his name. Or at least the name he wanted you to know," She was attempting to get under Sherlock or Joan's skin. Either would do, as long as one of them felt manipulated she was satisfied.

"Of course it's an alias," Joan retorted. Sherlock smiled at her sweetly, walking her back to the chairs. He knew Irene was trying to play with Joan's mind, but she was doing quite an excellent job of preventing it. "And I didn't "manage" anything, Delar never attempted to kill me." Irene sat seemingly calm, but both the detectives saw her eyes dilate slightly and exchanged glances, Irene was furious at this news. Maybe she really didn't know what Delar had done.

"Oh well," Irene stated, trying to sound uninterested. "No harm, no foul." She was startled when this time, rather than Joan, it was Sherlock would shot out of his chair as if he would kill her if he could.

"No harm?! No harm?! How can you possibly…" Joan stood and grabbed Sherlock's arm.

"Sherlock… Sherlock, honey, calm down… I don't think she knows…" Irene's shot to Joan's face. Don't know what? Sherlock turned and gazed into Joan's eyes for a moment before returning to his chair. He took a deep breath and grabbed Joan's hand before returning his gaze to the woman behind the glass.

"What exactly did you tell Delar to do?" Sherlock asked through gritted teeth, squeezing Joan's hand to provide her with comfort if it proved necessary. Irene smiled, happy to have the attention back on her.

"I simply told him that Joan would be alone and that he had approximately an hour, fifty-eight minutes, and thirty-two seconds before you returned home. Despite her no longer being your sober companion, you two hold very well to the two hour cycle. Anyhow, I told him to make it clearly a murder, yet to keep it simple… strangling or gunshot to the chest… you know, simple." Irene enjoyed the tension building up in Sherlock's eyes and body language, and the slightly masked horrified express on Joan's face, before she continued. "So, since Delar clearly did not kill you, what did happen? Just beat on you a bit, I suppose, based on the mask across you face that you attempted to cover with make-up, and there must be some bruises elsewhere on your body, due to your earlier reaction to Sherlock's touch. So do tell me, did Sherlock barge into the house early? Did his "gut" warn him that his beloved was in danger, so he came to save you?" Irene laughed softly, the sound musical and menacing at the same time.

"No," Joan said, simply. Sherlock squeezed her hand tighter, and turn his eyes to her in surprise.

"Joan, you don't have to…" Irene's eyes flickered from Sherlock's worried expression to Joan's emotionless one and back again, confused.

"No, she wants to know. Delar did not kill me, obvious, but he also did not simply get interrupted but Sherlock. He entered my room, did what he wanted, and left. He actually contacted Sherlock to tell him to come home." Joan said very matter-of-factly.

"Well what was it he wanted?" Irene was losing her patience.

"He raped me," Joan answered, her face remaining emotionless, but tears began to pool in her eyes. Irene's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

"He… he did what?" Irene seemed utterly shocked.

"You heard her." Sherlock growled. "You don't need to act so shocked, you are a criminal. This cannot be the first time you have allowed this to happen." This time it was Irene who rose from her chair and aggressively approached the glass.

"I have NEVER allowed this to happen!" Irene growled, much to Joan and Sherlock's surprise. "I have strict rules. No one, no target, no kidnap victim, no woman, who is ever involved in my business is EVER to be raped or sexually assaulted in anyway. It is not allowed and anyone who breaks this rule even slightly is immediately terminated, permanently."

"Why should you care? Your business is death and torture." Sherlock retorted.

"I am still a woman," Irene replied simply. The answer confused Sherlock, but Joan understood her completely. It was definitely a woman thing to created such a rule, not that men couldn't understand the dangerous and pain of sexual assault, it was just that woman were more likely to be haunted by the very concept of it.

"If you didn't order him to do it, why would he?" Joan asked simply.

"After my imprisonment, a few of my agents went rogue. I have had many visitors," Irene said with a smile. "All different informants. My people are very loyal and, despite my location, I am still in charge of the empire. My informants provided me with names of rogue agents and I provided them with the assignments to have them terminated. The one thing no one could tell me was the name of the leader of this mutiny."

"Delar did call himself the new Moriarty," Joan offered.

"Yes, that is because he is. Well, in a way he is. It was part of my insurance plan, Delar was the same right hand man that called himself Moriarty when he talked on the phone with you a few weeks ago. He is the physical Moriarty and I am the mental Moriarty, the real Moriarty," Irene answered. "It appears the power went to his head. I always knew he was a head strong… but… he and I have such a… strong connection that I never believed he would turn against me,"

"What do you mean a strong relationship? Are you two… together?" Joan asked. Irene laughed gently.

"No, no, God no! I never form that kind of relationships with my employees. No, he and I… well you could say we were like family,"

"Do you know where we can find him?" Sherlock chimed in. Joan and Irene had been so wrapped up in talking to one another that they would have forgot he was there if it weren't for his tight hold on Joan's hand.

"He is rogue. I am not sure of his whereabouts at the moment," Irene replied. Neither of the detective were convinced, Irene had too many connections to not know where Delar was. Irene could tell they didn't believe her, so she tried a different approach. "I understand you are upset Sherlock, and Joan… I am sorry… I may have wanted you murdered but I understand that what you are facing now is worse and I am sorry, but I think you two should stay out of this. Marcus will be taken care of, I guarantee it," With that Irene motioned to the guard and stood to leave.

"Irene… one last thing?" Joan asked, Irene turned back around to face her. "What did you mean by your insurance plan?" Irene smiled, and laughed softly to herself.

"It is a backup plan, for in case I was arrested or… taken out. Something in place to make sure everything is taken care of, Marcus taking over, where my finances are held, who gets the client list, all of that was and is covered in my insurance plan. All good criminals have one, and all genius have one. Just ask Sherlock," And with a small smile and a tiny wave she turned, leaving Joan gazing up at Sherlock curiously before he wrapped his arm around her waist and lead her out of the prison to a waiting taxi.


	10. Chapter 10

*Disclaimer: I do not own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

Sherlock had noticed that not only did Joan seemed distracted as they left, but she also seemed to be in pain. She was leaning on him a bit, trying to keep the weight off her broken ankle. The EMTs had wrapped it rather than casting it, assuring Sherlock that it wasn't severe enough to put Joan through the handicap of a cast. Sherlock wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, lifting her slightly off the ground and practically carrying her to the cab. After helping her in and sliding in himself, he gently lifted Joan's left leg, allowing her ankle to rest in his lap.

"Does this help?" He asks, gently massaging her calf, trying to relax the muscles that had tensed from limping. Joan nodded and stared out the window, pretending to be interested in something on the street. "Joan? Is something bothering you? Was it wrong to bring you to talk to Irene? I am sorry for what happened in there. I didn't think you would have to… remember what had happened." Joan sighed and turned to look at him. His eyes were full of concern and she couldn't help reaching out placing her hand on his upper arm affectionately.

"Sherlock, I am not upset. I am actually kind of… happy… you brought me here. We may have more questions, but at least we got a few answers. We know that Irene did not plan what Delar did and that she is not happy about it. And we have learned that we are not the only ones after him…"

"But something is bothering you still." Sherlock wasn't asking, he knew she was worrying about something else. "What is it?" Joan hesitated, then looked directly into Sherlock's eyes.

"Do you have an insurance plan? You know, like the one Irene has?" Sherlock sighed softly, of course Irene would have brought that up.

"Yes, I do." He stated simply, continuing to massage Joan's leg as a distraction from the conversation.

"Oh," Joan said, removing her hand from his arm and staring back out the window. Sherlock groaned internally, she was doing that thing again. That "Joan thing," where she would ask questions so to point out that something was bugging her, then she would suddenly just drop it, playing on the fact that she _knew_ Sherlock couldn't just leave it be. And as always, he fell right into her trap.

"Is there a problem with me having a plan in place in case something ever happens? What I… what _we_ do is very dangerous. We have made quite a few enemies, as has been displayed in recent events, so years ago I set up a plan for what was to be done if anything ever happened to me. What is the big deal?" Joan snapped her gaze back to meet Sherlock's, and he was surprised to see what appeared to be hurt mixed in with anger.

"What's the big deal? The big deal is that you and I have been partners for months now and it never occurred to you to inform me about your insurance plan. What if something did happen to you Sherlock? Without knowing about this plan I wouldn't know what to do or who to call. I wouldn't know what you wanted. How could you not tell me?"

"Joan, it's not like that…" Sherlock pinches the bridge of his nose, something Joan knows is a sure sign of frustration. She waits for the answer she knows he will provide, he can't help it, he must talk. "I did not believe it to be of great importance. When we met I had no idea that _this_ would be our outcome," He gestures his hand between the two of them, clearly illustrating their budding… relationship? The word felt weak to both of them, but surprisingly they both fell short of a better synonym. "I was expecting a baby sitter, and as my baby sitter you were not entitled to know the personal details such as the existence and contents of my insurance plan."

"But I am not your baby sitter, Sherlock. I haven't been for quite some time. I was and am your partner in work and… well…" Joan wasn't sure what to say. They had admitted their mutual love but did that mean the same this to the great Sherlock Holmes as it meant to her. Certainly not… could it? Sherlock grasped her hand and brought it to his lips, and closing his eyes, he kissed it tenderly but meaningfully.

"Joan, I was going to tell you about it. I have actually been making some changes to it lately, but you will read it once it is complete." And with that the topic was dropped and Sherlock returned his attention to massaging Joan's leg. "Feeling better?" He inquired after a long silence.

"Yes, thank you Sherlock." Joan smiled at him affectionately, helping her was a display of affection that had been present even before anything had happened. She treasure the same displays nearly as much as the more obvious kissing, yet she did wish that he would perhaps hold her hand, just to show the world. To state his claim, so to speak. She wanted people to know she was his and he was hers.

"Anything for you, love." He whispered. Suddenly, Joan's gaze was full of panic as she ripped her leg out of his lap, wincing at the sharp pain that shot through her ankle as her foot landed on the floor. Sherlock stared at her confused and worried. "What? What's wrong?" Joan wrapped her arms around her body and looked at Sherlock timidly. "Joanie… what did I do?" Sherlock talked gently, as if to a frightened animal. Then, as suddenly as she fell into it, Joan snapped out of her panic.

"I-I just… when you… I'm sorry," She relaxed her body and even brought her leg back up to rest in Sherlock's lap. Cautiously, he resumed he gently caress, keeping his eyes on her face. He waited, she would explain, and she did. "He called me love… Moriarty, Marcus, Delar… whatever the hell is name is. He said it three times before, six times during, and once before her left." Joan couldn't look into Sherlock's eyes. It wasn't fair. She wanted him to use the endearment. When Sherlock said it, it was full of meaning and promise, completely opposite of when Delar had used it almost like a derogatory term because of her gender or something like that, she could quite explain it. When Delar said it is was possessive and degrading. And although Sherlock clearly meant it as what it was, the simple utterance of the term sent her spirally back, almost like a trigger for PTSD patient.

"I'm sorry… I won't use it again," Sherlock stroked Joan's hair gently. She frowned, relieved yet disappointed. Damn Delar! He was interfering without even being present. "What may I call you?" Sherlock asked quickly drawing in all of Joan's attention.

"Excuse me?" The puzzled look Joan gave him made hi chuckle despite himself.

"What am I allowed to call you?" He repeated. '"Watson" is all fine and good for work, and I attend to continue to use it when it comes to cases, and I have become quite fond of "Joan" and "Joanie" to be used as a more common term, around the brownstone and in everyday life, but what endearments do you prefer? "My sweet", perhaps? Or would you rather I remain more conventional with "darling" or "dear"?" Joan laughed gently. Sherlock smiled, it was getting a little closer to the musical sound of her "before" giggle every time.

"Oh, I don't know. I like them all, I guess. How about you just call me whatever comes to mind and I'll point out the ones I don't like as I hear them?" Joan suggested.

"As you wish, my Asian lover," Sherlock smirked, as Joan glared at him.

"Put that one on the never-again list,"

"What? You didn't like that one, my little Chinese checker?" He laughed until Joan punched him in the arm. "Hey!" He rubbed his arm, trying, unsuccessfully, to appear hurt.

"Alright, smartass. What am I allowed to call you? My sweet British frog?" Joan challenged.

"If you wish," Sherlock replied, he knew she would never call him anything ridicules. Joan detested saying embarrassing things nearly as much as she hated being embarrassed herself. Joan rolled her eyes.

"In all seriousness, is there anything you prefer I not call you?" Sherlock thought for a moment, really trying to give it some thought before answering.

"Darling," He replied. "I know it is an innocent enough term, but it is Irene's favorite to use. I don't want her poisoning my thoughts when you call for me. All I want to be thinking about is you," Joan blushed softly, and Sherlock couldn't resist, he gently place her leg back on the ground and leaned in to kiss her carefully on the lips. Joan tried to behave, she truly did. She tried to let Sherlock control the kiss, only giving small responses and following his lead. But everything about him, his smell, the feel of his skin, even the sound of his breathing, drove her crazy, she could resist him. The moment his tongue grazed her lip, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pull herself tight against his slim, yet muscular body, opening her mouth to him with a passionate moan. To her great surprise, Sherlock didn't pull away, instead he pulled her into his lap, seemly unaware that they were still in a taxi with the drive get on the other side of the barrier. He arms snaked around her waist as her hand slide to his hair, tangling her fingers, deepening the kiss even further. When she pulled away for air, his lips never left her, just slid across her jawline, down to her neck.

"Oh, Joan… my angel… my sweet… my darling… my world… my perfect, wonderful Joan…" Between each kiss, he breathed a new endearment into her skin. Joan tilted her head, giving him more room to work, cherishing every kiss, every word. "Oh, my Joanie… I love you…" And with that, she pulled his lip back to hers, kissing her with every ounce of emotion she possessed.

"I love you too," She breathed, as they pulled away for just a moment.

The glow in his eyes as she uttered those for tiny words was enough to drive any woman insane, but just as she bent to kiss him again, the cab stop. As if suddenly remembering they were not alone, Joan practically jump out of Sherlock's lap back onto the back bench, as Sherlock laughed softly opening the door. Once out, he turned to pay the cabby as Joan followed. She noticed that he gave an unnecessarily large tip and blushed a soft shade of pink. Sherlock turn back to her, smiling as if he had found the lost treasure of the Pharaohs, before offering her his arm. Surprised, yet thrilled, Joan took it and allowed him to lead her into the precinct to talk to Gregson and Bell.


	11. Chapter 11

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

The moment they walked into the precinct, all eyes were on them. Joan blushed deep red, she hated to be the center of attention, but despite the embarrassment nothing was going to pry her off Sherlock's arm. As they walked towards Gregson's office, which of course had to be the one furthest from the door, Joan examined the eyes that gazed at her and Sherlock and noticed a disturbing detail. There were faces of shock and even some of disappointment and disbelieve, and that did not surprise her in the least, she was with _the_ Sherlock Holmes who never showed affection or emotion. No, the disturbing thing was that only half the faces held that expression, the other half looked not at the couple, but solely at her. These eyes appeared full of sorrow and pity, some even looked disgusted by something, and Joan suddenly became even more self-conscious, hardly believing it was possible. She strived to nonchalantly look at herself. Her outfit was fine, nothing embarrassing or stare worthy there. her wrists were covered, along with her broken ankle and the bite marks were definitely covered by the ultra-conservative outfit Sherlock had picked, even all the bruises on her arms were covered… that was it! Noticing her grip suddenly tightening, Sherlock looked down at Joan curiously, to discover her gazing up at her anxiously.

"What's wrong?" He whispered, still strolling leisurely through the precinct.

"Has the makeup worn off?" Joan whispered back. Sherlock didn't quite understand and Joan sighed. "My face, Sherlock. Can you see the bruising? Does it look horrid?" Finally understanding, Sherlock gazed at her for a minute, before he removed her arm from his and instead wrapped it tightly around her waist, both protectively and possessively.

"I hardly noticed," He whispered into her hair as they turned to enter Gregson's office. It was in fact true, he had hardly noticed the bruises. When he looked at Joan, he saw her eyes, her smile, her silky hair, he was so distracted by the emotions peering through the windows of her eyes and on her soft lips dancing with his, he truly had not noticed her makeup fading off. After really looking at her face, he had to admit to himself that it was bad. The bruises were fading but they were still very obvious, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Sherlock glanced back over his shoulder at the office full of officers and gave them the glare that made blood freeze and criminals beg for mercy, and suddenly every officer had something to urgent to distract them.

XXXXX

"I appreciate the information guys, I do, but as I told you that you were off the case," Gregson said, trying to ignore the detective and his partner, who were clearly struggling against making contact, despite how hard they attempted to hide it. Gregson stood leaning back against his desk and Joan at in one of the chairs as Sherlock paced around the office between the two, occasionally allowing his glance to fall upon Joan, the way her hair rested over her shoulders or how her eyes sparkled as they followed him as he walked.

"Understood, Captain, but I would like to draw our attention to the fact that despite you and your team's great investigating skill, you would not have been able to get this information without myself and Watson. Especial without Watson, she triggered a side to Irene that even I did not deduce existed," Sherlock paused at Joan's side, gently patting her shoulder as a teacher proud of his pupil, then taking a small lock of her hair that had come to rest on her back and caressing it between his fingers, before walking away, continuing his pacing. Gregson rolled his eyes and cleared his voice.

"You know, if you two wanted to keep this… thing… between you a secret, you shouldn't have walked through the precinct arm in arm," Joan looked up at him, wearing an actresses perfect face of confusing.

"Thing? I'm sorry but I don't have any idea of what you are talking about. Sherlock only offered me his arm because my ankle has been bothering me since we left the prison and has made it difficult for me to walk." Sherlock smiled softly to himself, she had not missed a beat. They had not discussed their developing relationship and who would be privy to the displays of their affection. It had not occurred to him to keep it a secret from Irene, he actually got a small satisfaction out of showing Joan off to the woman who accused her of being nothing more than a mascot. Gregson and Bell were another story, Sherlock had to keep up his image, and going soft by falling in love would not help him in that task.

"Sure, sure," Gregson said crossing his arms across his chest. "And he wrapped is arm around your waist before walking into my office for the same reason,"

"Well yes and no. I did need the extra support but also he was trying to comfort me. It occurred to me that my makeup had most likely faded and the bruises across my face would be extremely evident and I became extremely self-conscious at all the looks of pity I was receiving. Sherlock was kind enough to move his arm to provide me with more support while also making it easier for us to move faster through the precinct, quickly removing me from unwelcome eyes." Gregson gave up, it was obvious that something else was brewing between the two detectives, but Joan was doing a very good job at covering for their actions, making it pointless to continue this line of questioning.

"Well, Watson, has the Captain said we are not on the case. Clearly our assistance is unwanted, and you must want to return to the hotel to rest that ankle of yours," Sherlock offered Joan his hand, which she took while making a show of struggling to get up without putting weight on her ankle. Once she had righted herself and having leaned enough of her weight on Sherlock to allow it to look natural to be resting against him in such a manner that gave off an air of affection, her eyes drifted up to meet his, sharing a meaningful look and smiling ever so gently. Gregson rolled his eyes at their overly played attempts to hide their affections.

"We will keep you informed on any progress we make. And I expect the same courtesy for the two of you, because I know that despite what I may say, I know you will continue to ignore me and investigate," Gregson said as he stood and opened the office door for the secret couple. "And Joan…" She froze as Gregson gently grabbed her arm. "Try to get some rest. You have been through a lot, don't let Holmes drag you around everywhere and not give you time to heal." Joan felt Sherlock's grip tighten on her arm as he tensed at Gregson's suggestion that he did not care about Joan's health and well-being.

"No need to worry about that, Captain." Joan smiled politely and moved a bit closer to Sherlock and out of Gregson's reach. "Sherlock is not forcing me anywhere, quite the opposite really. I will not allow him to leave me behind. I will be sure to keep your advice in mind and to not over work myself," And with that she allowed Sherlock to lead her out of the office, though the precinct, and to the street to find a cab.

Once in the taxi on its way back to the hotel, Joan leaned her head back and sighed. Sherlock reached over and grabbed her hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze.

"You did wonderful, my darling. So wonderful that I must ask, is there something between us or have just been imagining it all day?" Joan's eyes flew opened as she sat up and looked at him in shock.

"Sherlock… how can you even…" Sherlock chuckled softly at her surprised expression. Joan's expression quickly changed to playful anger when she realized he was teasing her, and she punched him in the arm.

"Ow!" He uttered, rubbing his arm gently. "That is the second time today you have assaulted me, if you keep being so cruel to me I will have to take to leaving you in the hotel room." Joan smirked at him defiantly before giggling softly. Sherlock smiled and kissed her smile softy. He moved away and leaned against the back of the seat gazing at Joan.

"Gregson is starting to get on my nervous," Sherlock growled softly. Joan turned from looking out the window to gaze back at him curiously. "Has he always been that friendly towards you and have I just not noticed? Or is it something new?" Joan smiled softly at his jealously.

"For the most part it is new. I would be surprised if it weren't for the fact that you have also begun to show new affection. Being a victim does that for a girl," Joan tried to shrug it off looking back out the window. Sherlock grabbed her chin and turned her face back towards his.

"First, you are not a victim. You are a strong, beautiful, amazing woman who has happened to be put through hell and instead of letting it destroy her, used it to help her become an even stronger person. Second, my affection for you is not new. Joan, I have loved you almost from the moment I met you, I was just too foolish to notice and admit it until I thought I had lost you." Joan smiled and kissed him.

"Thank you, sweetheart. And to tell a secret… I loved you from the moment I first saw you working a case, and I was also too timid to admit it. I love you Sherlock Holmes, and nothing will ever change that." Sherlock smiled at her affectionately, kissing her nose so to make her giggle.

"Good. And Gregson better keep his distance or he will join Delar on my list of people to hunt down," Joan smiled, knowing Sherlock was perfectly serious, yet slightly thrilled to see his jealous side.

The taxi stopped outside of the hotel and the couple walked in arm in arm into the building. As they waited for the elevator, Sherlock began to draw small circles on her hand with his thumb. Joan glanced up at him through her lashes and saw her favorite devious smile dancing on his lips. The elevator doors slide open and Sherlock quickly ushered her in and slammed the 'Door Close' button before anyone else could even dream of trying to join them, and suddenly Joan was thrilled that their room was on the thirty fourth floor.

The second the doors closed, Sherlock pushed Joan against the back of the elevator, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of her head, his lips crashing against hers. Joan didn't even try to hold back, she wrapped her arms tight around his neck, pulling herself off the wall and against his body, opening her mouth with a passionate moan, welcoming his tongue to explore. Sherlock slammed her body back against the wall. He placed his hands on her hips and slowly slid them up to her waist, dragging her sweater up with them, exposing her bare flesh to his touch. She broke the kiss, struggling to fill her lungs with oxygen and Sherlock moved his lips to her neck, pushing her turtleneck out of his way. He kissed and ran his tongue over every surface of the pillar that was her neck, making her eyes to roll back into her head as she unwrapped her arms from his neck and ran them down his chest.

"Sherlock," She breathed. It came out like a prayer, sending shivers through his body and he moaned into her throat. "Oh, Sherlock… just a bit lower…" She groaned as he obliged to her request. Joan's hands began to explore his chest and slowly made their way to his back. Suddenly, Sherlock gently sunk his teeth into the sensitive spot on her neck and she ran her nails down his back.

"Oh Joan… my darling … my beautiful angel… my perfect Joanie…" The chain of endearments began to flow from him as she ran her nails over his back, pulling him tighter against him.

"Kiss me, my love…" She begged. He aggressively joined his lips with hers, slamming back against the wall of the elevator. She gasped and winced with surprise and a bit of pain from the sudden roughness. Despite the passion that filled the entire elevator, Sherlock had not for a moment forgot to be careful, but in this moment, she didn't care. He could hurt her all he wanted.

"I love you, Joan. I love you so much," Sherlock breathed before attacking her mouth again. Joan tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him even tighter against her… if it were possible.

"I love you, Sherlock Holmes," She gazed into his eyes for a moment while trying to check her breath, and just as their lips met once again, they heard a soft _ping!_ and the elevator doors opened. Reluctantly, Sherlock pulled away from Joan, running his knuckles softly from her temple, down her cheek, to her jaw before grabbing her hand and leading her out of the elevator and towards their room.


	12. Chapter 12

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

He practically dragged her down the hallway, was it this long earlier? Once they reached the door, he dropped Joan's hand, pulled out his wallet and slide the card through the lock and pushed the door open. Joan was about to walk in when he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to his side.

"Your ankle hurts, does it not?" Sherlock breathed into her hair. Joan had forgot all about the pounding in her broken joint thanks to Sherlock's wonderful distraction in the elevator, but now that he mentioned it the pain was more intense than ever. She gazed up at him and nodded. "That is what I thought," He smiled that wonderfully devious smile before he scooped her into his arms bridal style and proceeded to walk into their suite. Joan gasped at the surprise of her sudden change in position, but it soon changed into a giggle as Sherlock crossed the threshold, kicking the door closed behind him, and swung her around his arms as he walked into the bedroom, he chuckle making a beautiful harmony to her girlish laughter. Gently he placed her on the edge of the bed so her feet dangled an inch or two above the ground, then knelt in front of her carefully picking up her uninjured limb. He caught her gaze as his fingers caught the zipper of her heeled boot and shook his head disapprovingly.

"Impractical footwear such as this is going to result in another broken ankle," He whispered as he removed her boot, careful replacing her leg to bed before reaching, cautiously, for her broken ankle.

"If I didn't wear such "impractical footwear," I would be nearly six inches shorter than you which would lead to unnecessary strain on that wonderful neck of yours when we enjoy experiences such as the one in the elevator," Joan retorted as Sherlock gingerly removed her second boot, holding her wrapped ankle in his hand.

"The experience is worth the effort," He breathed gently pressing his lips to her ankle as if trying to kiss the pain away. Joan's breath caught at the touch and a smile formed on her lips as she began to lie back on the bed. Sherlock smiled at her as he slowly moved up to kiss her shin through her jeans, then her knee, her thigh, her stomach, her collarbone, shoulder, neck, jaw, and finally, holding himself over her body, his lips met hers. The kiss started gentle, sweet and slow, his hands gently caressing her arms, softly running through her hair, and finally coming to rest on her cheeks, pulling her face closer to his. A small, loving moan escaped from Joan's throat, turning into hum that vibrated against Sherlock's lips and breaking through his control. Suddenly, it was as if he was afraid that in an instance she would disappear, passion surged through him escaping into their kiss. He pressed her body into the mattress, tangling one hand in her hair, while the other aggressively grabbed her waist pulling it up against his own.

Joan gasped at his sudden intensity but instead of fighting, she embraced it, picking her arms up off the bed and wrapping them around his neck urgently. This response was like full to the fire, Sherlock growled into her mouth, his fingers digging into her skin. Her scent filled his head, driving him higher than any drug ever had. She was better than alcohol, better than heroin, better than Irene. Irene had been intense, passionate, and he believed that the feelings that drove their relationship had been love but Joan had proven him wrong. Irene had been lust, strong, emotionally charged lust, but lust none the less. Joan was love. His feelings completely controlled his every move when it came to Joan. His fears of losing her, his pain at seeing her hurt, his anger at himself for not protecting her and even anger with her for not blaming him, his joy at her admittance of her true feelings for him, and his passion from his own love for her, drove him as he kissed her and pulled her tighter against him. In the same thought, they opened their mouths to each other for further exploration and Sherlock bite her bottom lip gently. Joan urgently slide her hand down his chest, finding the hem of his shirt, and aggressive being to pull it up. The kiss broken momentarily, allowing her to rip off the offensive piece of clothing and toss it across the room.

Joan flipped them over so she was on top, being careful of her ankle with the sudden movement. She straddled her beloved, sitting on his hips, and ran her hands over his beautiful chest, admiring the define muscle and soft skin. Her fingers traced over the details of his tattoos as his chest rose and fell as he struggled to check his breath. He gazed at her lovingly. She was so beautiful, like having a dark haired angel touching him, loving him. How could he be so lucking to win the love of this goddess? He didn't deserve her, he knew that to be fact, all the horrible things he had done, all the people he had hurt, never once feeling guilt or remorse. She was all that was good and beautiful, her heart overflowed with kindness and compassion for everyone she saw, she had spent most of her life saving lives until that one faithful day and even then she dedicated herself to doing penance for a sin she hadn't really committed. He squeezed her thighs, drawing her gaze back to his eyes, overflowing with love. Her heart melted, he loved her, he truly loved her, and she never felt more cherished. She leaned down and kissed him with every ounce of love and passion she could. She could feel him doing the same as his hands slide up her legs and grabbed her hips. That was his mistake.

His hands landed directly on her hidden, forgotten wounds and he squeezed them in attempt to pull her close. She broke the kiss to cry out in pain, tears forming in her eyes and immediately Sherlock's hand dropped away from her as if burned. Horror crossed his face when he realized he was responsible for her pain, her tears. Quickly and carefully he slide her off his body and laid her down on the bed, sitting up himself, cautiously leaning over her.

"Shit! Joan… Joan I am so sorry. I-I forgot… I didn't mean to… I am so sorry… so, so sorry!" She could her the panic in his voice and quickly tried to compose herself. The tears has just been an unconscious reaction, the pain was already fading and she was determined to try to save the moment if she could.

"No, Sherlock, I am fine! Really, it was an accident," She attempted to reach up and caress his face but he moved out of her reach. "Sherlock, it's okay. I am fine… it is no big deal," She realized immediately that that was a poor choice in words, as Sherlock turned to stare at her in disbelief.

"No big deal?! Joan, I lost control and I… I hurt you…" He squeezed his eyes shut, and she knew he was beating himself up. Joan sat up and grabbed his face between her hands, waiting for him to open his eyes and look at her.

"Sherlock Holmes, I love you, it was an accident. You weren't being careless, you were being passionate and I loved it. Please, don't let this stop you. Please, don't stop… kiss me, Sherlock… please," Sherlock hesitated, but then slowly pressed his lips to hers. She tried desperately to trigger the passion from earlier, but the moment she open her mouth to his, he pulled away.

"My apologies Watson, it occurs to me that you probably want to rest and I have been keeping you from that," He stood up, kissed the top of her head and walked out of the bed, closing the door behind him, leaving her alone and wanting. She flopped down on the bed, and covered her eyes with her arms.

"Damn you, Moriarty!" She screamed as tears began to slide down her cheeks. Sherlock rested his body against the other side of the door, listening to her scream and cry. _Damn you, Moriarty! _He agreed and slowly walked over to sofa, sitting down and dropping his head into hands. How was he ever going to fix this?


	13. Chapter 13

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters, or the song _Un-break My Heart_ by Toni Braxton*

When he walked back into the bedroom the sun had already set. He carried a tray of room service for dinner, hoping maybe he could coax Joan to come out and sit with him. To his surprise he found the bedroom empty, and immediately panic began to set in. Sherlock was about to call Gregson when he heard Joan's voice coming from the bathroom. He silently walked over and heard water running… a shower. Of course she was in the shower, he was not on his game tonight. He was about to walk away from the door when he heard Joan's voice again, she was singing.

"_Don't leave me in all this pain, don't leave me out in the rain. Come back and bring back that smile, come and take these tears away. I need your arms to hold me now, the nights are so unkind. Bring back those nights when I held you beside me… un-break my heart! Say you love me again! Undo this hurt you caused when you walked out the door, and walk out of my life. Un-cry these tears, I cried so many nights! Un-break my heart!_" She sang to herself. Sherlock knew the song, though the genre was not his normal choice. It was about being abandon, being alone and begging for a lovers return. Sherlock's heart fell as he heard her voice crack as she sang, "_Without you, I just can't go on!_" She hadn't just picked any tune, she was sing what came to her heart. Crushed, he picked up the tray and left the room as quietly as he entered. What had he done?

When she finished the song, Joan shut the water off. She had been hoping that the hot water pouring over her body would help distract her from her problem with Sherlock, but no such luck. She grabbed a towel, dried her body quickly, and walk out of the bathroom to find some clothes. She realized after having stepped out of the warmth of the bathroom, wrapped only in her towel, that she wasn't entirely sure where Sherlock had sorted her suitcase. As she searched, she found something else that made her stop in her tracks… a full length mirror on the inside of the closet door. Joan stood up straight and gazed at herself, lifting her hand to let her fingers gently graze over her mask of bruises across her nose and cheeks, running them across the slowly healing sores down her neck and across her collarbone, matching her hands over the hand-shaped bruises on her arms, and sighed. She was about to take off her towel to glance over the rest of the damage when she heard the door crack.

"Joan? Are you decent?" Sherlock asked, peeking around the door, tray of food in hand and a towel thrown over her shoulder.

"Um… yeah, yeah… come in," She tightened her towel and quickly tried to wipe away the few tears that escaped with the back of her hand.

"Did you have a nice shower?" He asked as he set the tray of food down on the bedside table. She nodded, both of them realizing how silly of a question it was. "I-I was bringing you some dinner…"

"Oh, thank you," She couldn't meet his eyes.

"I, um…. I also thought that maybe… maybe I could dry your hair for you? I don't want you getting sick, and then maybe… I could brush it for you," Joan smiled timidly at him and he walked closer, coming up behind her and gently placing the towel over her hair. Joan closed her eyes and enjoyed the massage of his fingers on her scalp through the towel, she really did love him, one moment shot to hell wasn't going to change that. He threw the towel back over his shoulder and walked away for a moment to retrieve her brush from the bathroom and began to carefully run it through her damp hair.

"I love your hair," He breathed in her ear, and her eyes shot open in surprise. His voice sounded so raw, so deep, so seductive.

"It's just black, straight hair… nothing special," She noticed that the brush stroking her hair seemed to hesitate momentarily before it continued.

"You are wrong," Sherlock replied simply.

"It is just hair. Don't get me wrong, I like my hair, I think it is my prettiest feature which is not saying much. I have never been a great beauty," She shrugged. Suddenly, the hair brush was gone and Sherlock's hand was wrapped around her arm quickly, yet gently, turning her to face him.

"Who told you such a thing?" He almost demanded, was he angry?

"I don't know, I guess I always kind of knew. My mom always tried to help me look prettier, showing me how to you make up to "emphasize my classic Chinese feature" as she use to say, and she would constantly try different ways to style my hair to find the "most flattering" way for it to sit. Boys at school never commented on my looks, negatively or positively. I am rather average,"

"No, no, my angel! Oh my Joanie… you are beautiful, I have told you that haven't I?" He cupped her face in one of his hands while gently stroking her hair with his other. Joan leaned into his touch and nodded softly, making a face that reminded Sherlock of a child being reprimanded by a parent. "But you didn't believe me?" He wasn't really asking, he knew from the look in her eyes that she hadn't.

"Men always tell women they are beautiful because that is what women want to hear," Joan answered.

"And you think I would lie to you?" Sherlock tried not to appear hurt.

"No! I didn't mean it like that…" Joan struggled to find the right words.

"Joan Watson, I love you. Do you understand that?" Joan nodded. "Good. And because I love you, I will never tell you something that is not the truth… you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen…" Sherlock turned her so she was facing the mirror again and he met her gaze through the glass. "Not simply physically, though trust me, the physical package is enough to make any man who sees you on my arm rather than theirs' jealous. I mean look at yourself, those deep, dark eyes, that cute, little nose, full, perfect lips, flawless skin that it smooth as skin and soft as velvet. Then there are your perfect curves," His fingers had stoked each feature as he mentioned them, and now they slid slowly down her arms to her hips. "But it is more than that, your heart also makes you beautiful. You are so loving, compassionate, caring, attentive… and it is your heart, soul, and body that make you beautiful. My dear Watson, you are anything but average," Joan blushed, and looked down unable to continue eye contact with such passionate man.

"My skin isn't flawless or soft… at least… not and more," Joan started to move out of Sherlock's reached but he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against his body.

"You will heal, my darling. You will heal," Sherlock breathed into her neck, kissing it gently as Joan shook her head.

"It will scar… I will never be the same, my love. I will never fully be the Watson you met months ago, the one you fell in love with," A tear rolled down her cheek. Sherlock turned her to face him and gently kissed the tear away.

"I love you my Joan. I will always love you." His lips met hers passionately, pulling her tight against her body as she opened her mouth to his, welcoming his love. After a minute or two she pulled away, laughing gently.

"I love you too, my wonderful Sherlock. Now I must ask, did you purposely hide my suitcase so that you could trap me in here with nothing but a towel on?" Sherlock smiled her favorite smile and kissed the tip of her nose.

"No, only because I did not think of it until now," He chuckled. "It is under the bed." Joan nodded and slipped out of his arms to go get it. Sherlock crossed his arms and leaned against the wall to watch as Joan hesitated momentarily to find the best way to reach under the bed without her towel falling off or showing everything off. Feeling Sherlock's eyes on her, she tightened her towel and carefully got to her knees sitting on her calves, crossed her ankles one over the other, and holding the top of the towel up, bent over and yanked the suitcase out smoothly. She turned and smirked at Sherlock as he looked at her in fake disgust at having not gotten a show out of her little project. Joan stuck her tongue out at him like a five year old winning a fight.

"Be careful, my sweet. You make a habit out of sticking that tongue out at me, I may have to bite it," Sherlock smirked as her eyes widen just the slightest bit.

"Promise…" She breathed, satisfied at the slight shock she saw in his eyes, and bending over again to dig through her suitcase. Standing back up, she approached Sherlock and kissed him sweetly on the lips. "Make yourself comfortable while I go and change," And she continued to the bathroom. When she came out she found the room to be completely dark except for a circle of candles set up around the duvet from the bed that was now on the floor with Sherlock sitting in the middle of it all. Joan walked over and gazed at him quizzically.

"I thought we could have a floor picnic," Sherlock smiled shyly, seeming unsure of how she would respond to his surprise. All his insecurities were immediately dissolved when Joan's face broke into an enormous smile.

"Sounds wonderful!" Joan walked over and sat next to him on the blanket. "So, what are we having?"

"Unfortunately, nothing extraordinarily romantic. Small salads, an order of fettuccine alfredo, a couple pieces of cheesecake, and this," Sherlock pulled out a bottle and Joan frowned.

"Sherlock, the rules haven't changed, no alcohol," Sherlock smiled softly at her.

"Oh, my sweet, would I dare cross you? It is sparkling cider," He said, pouring each of them a glass.

"Well, I must say, my dear, you were very wrong," Joan said taking a sip of her cider.

"About what, my sweet?" Sherlock asked, glance at her as he sipped his drink.

"This is actually quite romantic," Joan smiled and clanked her glass against his. He beamed as he leaned in and kissed her gently.

"Let's eat,"


	14. Chapter 14

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters, or the song_ Total Eclipse of the Heart_ by Bonnie Tyler*

When all that remain of their picnic were a pair of forks and a few bites of cheesecake, the couple laid out in their private utopia. Joan rested her head on Sherlock's chest as he held her against him with one arm securely wrapped around her waist.

"That was quite an endearing little outing," Joan offered in her best English accent.

"Quite true, my dear," Sherlock responded, over emphasizing his accent causing them both to shake with laughter. Sherlock reached into his pocket and produced a small remote, and pressing a button turned on a stereo Joan had yet to notice was in the room. "May I have this dance, my lady?" He asked, standing and offering her his hand. Joan laughed, stood up and curtsied to him as she took his hand.

"It would be a pleasure, my lord," Joan said, attempting her accent again. Sherlock smiled and pulled her close. To her surprise, but realizing moments later that it should have been no surprise at all, Sherlock took her left hand in his right and placed his left hand on her waist, beginning to lead her in a waltz. Joan struggled at first, she had not waltzed since her cousin had insisted all the bridesmaids at her wedding know how, but Sherlock was a confident partner and twirled her about the floor with no trouble.

"There now. You are getting the hang of it," He whispered, lifting their joined hands for her to spin, which she did with more grace than either had expected. "You are actually quite good, my darling." Joan laughed as he spun her again.

"I could say the same about you. Are you so good at waltzing because you are British or because you're wealthy?" She asked as he wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, pressing their bodies closer.

"I would say a mix of both. Father insisted I learn for when the wealthy British decided to hold extravagant balls to show off their money and allow them to pretend it was the "good old days" where wealth and class was everything," Joan kissed his neck softly as the song came to an end. They pulled apart and bowed to each other laughing.

"Thank you, Sherlock. That was wonderful," Sherlock smiled and kissed her cheek. Another song began to play, making Joan smile and laugh. "Oh, I haven't heard this in years," Sherlock wrapped both his arms tight around her and began to dance with her slowly.

"_Turn around_," He breathed in her neck.

"_Every now and then, I get a little bit lonely and you're never coming around_," She sang back.

"_Turn around,_"

"_Every now and then, I get a little bit tired of listen sound of my tears,_"

"_Turn around_,"

"_Every now and then, I get a little bit nervous that the best of all the years have gone by,"_

_"Turn around,"_

"_Every now and then, I get a little bit terrified then I see the look in your eyes_,"

"_Turn around bright eyes,_"

"_Every now and then, I fall apart,_"

_"Turn around bright eyes,_"

"_Every now and then, I fall apart!_"

"_And I need you now tonight and I need you more than ever…_" They sang together. As the song finally ended and the last note rang out from each of their throats, Sherlock covered Joan's lips with his own. She moaned passionately and he took advantage to deepen the kiss, slipping his tongue into it to explore. She could tell he was memorizing, trying to catalogue all her teeth and she decided to do the same. She was a detective now too, was she not? She strived to catch and store every detail, any and every filling she found, which teeth were smooth and which were more textured. As she continued, Sherlock noticed what she was doing and chuckled against her mouth, pulling away, and laughing again as she saw her disappointed face.

"Refining your skills?" Sherlock asked, gently cupping her face in his hands.

"Practices makes perfect," She smiles proudly. "Besides, I learned from the best to never stop paying attention to detail," To prove her point, she slid her hands under his shirt to run her fingers over the oversensitive skin she had found earlier that day, making him growl with pleasure.

"You have learned well," He breathed into her neck, moving his hands aggressively to her waist and pulling her closer. "But so have I," and he kissed and nipped at the spot on her neck she had pointed out in the elevator, almost making her knees give away as she moaned.

"I propose that we spend of the rest of the night learning," She got out between panting breathes. Sherlock pulled away from her neck and gazed into her eyes.

"Proposal accepted, Watson," She smiled as he used her "work name" and brought his lips back to hers, wrapping her arms around his neck until, much to her dismay, Sherlock pulled away. "It appears, my dear Watson, you were correct about the shoes. You are a bit out of reach," As he finished the sentence, he lifted Joan off the ground and she wrapped her legs around his waist, balancing much like a small child on his hips. "Better," he breathed, crashing his lips on hers. Sherlock carried her toward the bed, careful not to knock over any of the candles that had surrounded their personal oasis, opening his mouth to hers as he knelt on the bed and gently laid her back on the sheets. Joan unwrapped her legs from his waist and Sherlock pulled out of the kiss for air. She smiled up at him, arms still around his neck, holding him close as his eyes searched hers.

"Are you certain you are ready for this? It has only been a couple day…" Sherlock hesitated, worried he would hurt or scare her, but Joan continued to smile up at him.

"I love you Sherlock Holmes, and I trust you. Just… be gentle," He nodded and leaned back in to kiss her, moving achingly slow. His hands moved like feathers over her body, overly cautious with his every move. Joan groan in frustration, and pulled away from the kiss. "Not that gentle, my love. Here, let me show you," She suddenly flipped them so she was on top of him, sitting on his hips, the same position as earlier. She could see the worry in his eyes as he searched for a safe place to perch his hands. She smiled patiently, she had never seen him quite like this, so worried and unsure, she didn't much care for it. She fell in love with the egocentric, self-confident detective and she wanted him to be that person now.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Trust me and trust yourself," She grabbed his hands and placed them on her waist, just barely grazing her hip bone. She bite her lip seductively, and saw the passionate gleam return to his eyes, before she leaned down and kissed his neck, using her lips and her tongue to explore the strong column. He growled and dug his fingers into her skin instinctively until logic caught up with his actions and he began to loosen his grip before Joan placed her hands on his, not breaking contact with his neck, curling her fingers over his to cause them to tighten once again. "Just go with your instinct, I won't break."

"That is not inherently true…" Sherlock began to tease but it turned into a groan when Joan let her teeth sink into a sensitive spot were his neck met his shoulder. "Oh, Joanie, Joanie, Joanie…" She laughed, letting her warm breath cascade over his neck and shoulders. He let his hands slide from her waist to her behind, which was mostly skin thanks to the short, short cloth shorts she wore as pajama bottoms, and squeezed. Joan gasped and her eyes gleamed when she looked up at his face to see her favorite devious smile, causing her to be unable to resist joining her mouth with his. The fire had ignited and both of their actions began to be motived by passion alone. Her hands aggressively search for the hem of his shirt and upon finding it, immediately began to rip it up towards his head. They broke the kiss just long enough for her to remove the offensive piece of cloth and throw it over her shoulder, Sherlock laughed at her eagerness before locking their lips back together, to returning to cataloging her teeth, as she began to log every surface of his torso that her nimble fingers could reach. He had a finely toned stomach, exactly three beauty marks-one on the front of his right shoulder, one on the left side of his chest, and the final one was just above his left hipbone, and precisely six large tattoos that covers his arms and part of his shoulder and chest. Next, her hands slid down to his belt. She manage to undo the buckle, button, and zipper as Sherlock tangled his fingers tightly in her hair, pulling her mouth tighter against his triggering a deep, passionate moan to escape from her mouth and pour into his.

"Sherlock…" She moaned, as the kiss broke to allow in oxygen. He aggressively torn his hands from her hair to her waist and whipped them around so he was over her again. She never missed a beat, rejoining her mouth with his and practically clawing his jeans off his body, leaving him holding himself over her in only his boxers that were becoming increasingly tighter.

"You are wearing far too much," He growled against her lips as his hand slid under her tank top, an unusual choice of night wear for her, but he wasn't about to complain. Their lips parted again, reluctantly, and she lifted her hands above her head to allow Sherlock to pull her top over her head. He threw it towards his on the floor and stared at her body. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness and although he couldn't tell the exact color, he could make out the dark shapes that covered her otherwise light skin. He stroked them gently, before gazing up at her with sad eyes. She bit her lip at his touch and gazed back.

"Don't stop, please…" She begged, horrified that he was going to leave her wanting once again. Sherlock let out a breath and bent over her to kiss each bruise, causing her to moan softly.

"I would never dream of it," He breathed against her stomach. Eight bruises, all handprint or finger marks, covered her torso. Sherlock stored each one away in the vault of his mind, along with the feel of her skin, the smooth, hardness of her stomach muscles, the perfect curve of her waist and breasts. His lips reached her bra and again he hesitated. Slowly, painfully slow, he slide the straps off her shoulders, placing a kiss on each, before he urged her to lift up just a bit so he could undo the back. He remove the black lace bra, smiling at her for her intriguing choice. She smiled back at him, confirming that it was, indeed, an intentional choice. He let his eyes slowly drift to her breasts, and he tried to hide his pain as he saw the bite marks that were placed on the outer side of each. They had been strategically place, he could tell, somewhere that not everyone would see, only a lover. He growled, this time in anger, and Joan reached up and placed her hand on his cheek.

"I love you," She breathed, sitting up to kiss his lips passionately. As he began to relax again Joan grabbed his hand and placed it over her breast, showing him that she wanted this, for him to pretend there was nothing wrong. So he did. He removed his lips from hers, sliding them over her jaw, down her neck, across her collarbone, and down her body. Memorizing every dip and curve, sliding his hands any and everywhere his tongue and lips had been and would go. She moaned and shivered with pleasure and desire as he finally made it to her shorts. His fingers slid under the waistband slowly, but Joan's patience was too low and her need too high for that, and she lifted her hips off the bed and helped him slide her bottoms and panties off in one move. Without hesitation she moved to his boxers, yanking them off and discarding them on the floor. They both paused to stare at one another, all walls down, nothing to shield themselves from each other's examining and memorizing eye. She runs her fingers tips over his body, almost in awe, sending shivers through his body.

"Oh, my angel…" He breathed grabbing her hand in his. She gazed up at him, wondering if she had done something wrong. "You are driving me crazy. I love you. You are so… beautiful," He pressed himself against her, their lips crashing into one another. Their hands explore every inch of each other, begging for more, searching for new surprises. Finally it is too much.

"Please, Sherlock!" Joan begged.

"Are you sure, my darling?" He panted out, barely able to resist, but she must decide.

"I need you! Please!" Sherlock need nothing more, and he entered her. She nearly screamed his me, and he paused.

"You still ok?" She opened her eyes, full of love and passion, and nodded, wrapping her legs around his waist as he began to move. Their lips locked once again as he pushed her towards the edge.

"Don't stop, my love!" She begged, "I love you!" She screamed before she could no longer form words. With her eyes squeezed shut, she could sees colors flashing as she falls over the edge, managing to scream out his name. When she finally came back to Earth she smiled up at him and breathed, "Your turn." She flipped them over so she was on top once again, and worked to bring Sherlock the same joy he just brought her.

"Oh, Joan… my world… my angel… my beautiful goddess…my Joan… l need you… I love you!" He fell over the edge as she fell for a second time, shouting out each other's names. She collapsed on his chest and he wraps his arms around her. They lay there, listening to the heart of their lover and let their breath slow. Sherlock kisses her hair and tilts her head up so that their eyes meet.

"Are you alright, my Joan?"

"I am perfect, my Sherlock," He smiles when she claims him as her own and carefully adjusts their bodies so they are under the sheets, with her head against his chest, his body cocooning around her protectively.

"I love you, Joan Watson," He breathes into her hair.

"As I love you, Sherlock Holmes," And they drift asleep, smiles plastered on their lips and love in their hearts.


	15. Chapter 15

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

It was a small creak that awoke Joan from her sleep. At the Brownstone, a small creak or multiple small creaks were simply a way of life and therefore would not have interrupted her slumber. At a nice hotel, however, it seem quite out of place. She let out a small sigh and opened her eyes slowly, it was still dark must be early morning… too early to get up. She was about to roll over and fall back asleep when she saw something move, a shadow, from outside of the door, and she froze. Staring for another minute at the door, she began to believe her mind was simply playing tricks on her and she snuggled into Sherlock's bare chest, embracing the warmth, when she saw it again. This time she jumped and grabbed Sherlock's arm, startling him awake.

"J-Joan?" He grumbled, half asleep until his eyes fell on Joan's face, seeing the panic in his eyes he was suddenly wide awake. "Joan? What's wrong?"

"I-I thought I saw something… a shadow outside the bedroom door," Joan whispered, curling into Sherlock's chest.

"Oh, my darling, I am sure it was nothing. You are just still a bit jumpy… if it would make you feel better, I can go check," As Sherlock began to move away, Joan grabbed his arms and pulled him closer.

"No, no don't leave," She breathed, burrowing her head into his chest. Sherlock chuckled softly and kissed the top of her head.

"Alright, my angel, alright. I'm not going anywhere. Just close your eyes and try to get some more sleep," Joan lifted her head and kissed him lovingly on the lip.

"I love you. Good night," She curled back up against his chested as he whispered, "I love you too," and they both drifted back to sleep.

XXXXX

This time when Joan awoke the sun peeking in through the blinds confirmed that it was morning. She smiled to herself as she remembered the night before, the picnic, the waltz, the song, and the love. Joan laughed softly when she realized that she had made love with Sherlock Holmes, the man she loved, who, to her never ending surprise, loved her back. She stretched tentatively, pleasingly surprised to find nothing ached… well not much anyway… then examined her position. Her head was resting on Sherlock's left shoulder, her hair falling like a waterfall over her back and his chest, and her left arm was thrown carelessly across his chest. She let her fingertips draw meaning patterns on his chest and leaned over to carefully press her lips to his neck, causing him to stir and a smile to form on his lips as e tightened his grip around her waist.

"Mm-mm… Good morning, my princess," he breathed, nuzzling his nose in her hair.

"Good morning," she replied, trailing light kisses over his chest. He groaned softly and pulled her closer and drawing her lips to his. "Mm-mm," she breathed as she pulled her lips from his, "I like this greeting better than your normal 'good mornings'."

"Me too," he laughed, whining a little as she moved out of his grip to crawl out of bed. "Darling, where are you going? Come back and lay right here beside me." He patted the spot she had previously taken up.

"I am hungry. I thought I would go call for some room service." Sherlock watched her as she grabbed his t-shirt off the floor and pulled it over her head, an admiring smile dancing on his lips at the excellent view of her smooth, beautiful legs.

"I am suddenly regretting not having brought my cereal with us. I am getting quite sick of this 'hearty breakfast' food." Joan smiled slyly at him as she reached for her suitcase and lifting all the clothes, pulled out something. She shook the box and he smiled at the familiar sound of his cereal. "Joan, you sneaky little thing! You had that the entire time and you did not share?"

"Oh Sherlock! One breakfast of eggs and bacon wasn't going to kill you," Joan rolled her eyes as she walked towards the bed and kissed his forehead. Sherlock surprised her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulled her back on the bed, kissing her hard on the mouth.

"Thank you. It was sweet of you to think of me," He kissed her again before letting her wiggle out of his grip to stand back up.

"Well, you are very welcome," she smiled, walking out of the room as Sherlock rose and began to pull back on his boxers and jeans and headed for the bathroom. She paused in the doorway, suddenly distracted and confused. "Sherlock?" she asked turning back to face him.

"Huh?" he mumbled through the toothbrush in his mouth.

"When… when did you turn off the stereo?" Sherlock paused for a moment, thinking. He went back into the bathroom and returned wiping his mouth with a small towel.

"I didn't think I had… but then I was rather distracted last night," he said with a wolfish smile. Joan offered a small smile back before turning to walk into the living area of the suite. She was certain the music wasn't on when she woke in the middle of the night, yet she could remember a moment where Sherlock turned it off, and she remembered every detail of the night before. While she walked, she also noticed that hers and Sherlock's shoes were neatly aligned by the door, the toes touching the wall, and she specifically remember Sherlock simply throwing her shoes on the floor in the room after they exited the elevator. Perhaps he had picked them up after their fight and she hadn't noticed. When she reached the center of the main room, she looked around her examining every detail. Everything was straightened up, the blanket Sherlock had used the first night that had been thrown in a ball on the couch was neatly folded and placed over the back of the couch, their dirty dishes and trays from the meals they had eaten during their stay were nowhere to be seen, and all Sherlock's files and her book and magazines were nicely stacked on the coffee table. Sherlock hated cleaning and Detective Bell had specifically requested no room service for the duration of their stay, for security purposes. Panic was setting in as she turned and noticed something on the dining table that threw her into full panic mode.

"Sherlock!" She shouted, "Sherlock!" He came running into the room, now fully clothed, but stopped in his tracks at her side when he noticed what her hand was pointing to. On the dining table, was a small vase holding two flowers. "An English rose…" she breathed.

"And a hibiscus rosa-sinensis… also known as the China rose…" Sherlock stared in stunned silence, before turning to Joan and wrapping his arms around her, pulling her tight to his body.

"He was here… last night when I thought I saw something… he was here…" She stared up at Sherlock, then turned her attention back to the table. "I think there is a note…" she uttered surprised. Together they approached the table as if it were a bomb about to explode. Sherlock picked up the note and held it out so they could both read it.

_My dear Mr. Holmes,_

_It appears from the mess I found in the bedroom and the station that the stereo was set to that you and the beautiful Ms. Watson have finally shared the intimacy that she and myself shared only a few days ago. Better late than never, I like to say. I did you the serve of tidying up the disaster zone you were living in, Ms. Watson deserves a clean living space._

_My dear Ms. Watson,_

_How are you, love? Was Mr. Holmes able to bring you the same pleasure I was? I highly doubt it. Do you like my little gift, love? The China rose reminds me of you, my flower, and I thought the English rose was a good symbol for Mr. Holmes. I am sure you prefer a wilder flower, but you must admit, our old boy is not quite the wild type. Don't miss me too much, love._

_-Moriarty_

Sherlock's hands were shaking violently, and on an impulse of anger, he nearly ripped the note apart. Joan quickly grabbed his hands, prying the note loose from his fingers.

"Sherlock, sweetheart, that is evidence!" Joan attempted to calm him. "Sherlock, please!" He dropped the note and stormed away from her, trying to rein in his anger. Joan picked up the note and placed it back on the table before turning to face him. She walked up to him and gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "Sherlock?"

"We need to call Gregson," he replied, starting to move away from her again.

"Sherlock?" Joan attempted, unsuccessfully, to hide the hurt in her voice. "Sherlock? Are you angry with me? What that note said isn't true, I love you… please don't walk away from me…" She begged as he approached the bedroom, fighting off tears. As he went into the room in search of his phone, Joan's sadness morphed into anger. "Sherlock, damn it! Don't walk away from me!" She stormed into the bedroom, giving his back a shove when he wouldn't turn around.

"What the hell?" He shouted as he tumbled into the dresser.

"You said you loved me!" She shouted giving him another shove, tears of anger streaming down her face. "You lied! You never loved me!" She screamed. Suddenly, she grabbed her suitcase and began to throw all the clothes she could reach in. Sherlock turned and stared at her in horror.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock growled.

"I'm leaving! You lied! You never loved me, you took advantage of me when I was weak!" She spat. Sherlock grabbed her arms, not bothering to be gentle, and forced her to look him in the eye.

"I never lied to you!" He picked up her suitcase and threw it across the room. "You swore you would stay with me!" Joan glared at him, tears blurring his face. Gazing at her, watching her tears, Sherlock's heart melted. "Damn it… Joan… I-I'm sorry, I was angry…"

"You swore that you wouldn't let me out of your sight… but you turned your back…" Joan's tears turned to sobs as Sherlock pulled her to his chest.

"Joanie… Joanie, I love you so much… please, please don't leave me…"he begged, burying his face in her long, black hair. She pushed off his chest to look into his eyes.

"Why… why did you get so angry with me?" She whispered, as Sherlock wiped away her tears.

"Oh, my angel, I wasn't angry with you… it was the note… the way he wrote to you like you were lovers… like he owned you… I-I want to kill him…"

"I know," she breathed, resting her head back against his chest. "I hate him too. I love you… but don't you ever, EVER turn away from me again! Do you hear me Sherlock Holmes?!" She glared up at him for a moment and he laughed softly before leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips.

"I swear it, my darling… I better call Gregson now," he grabbed his phone off the dresser and turn back to Joan, "And you might want to cover up a bit more… won't want to have the Captain and Bell getting too much of a show. I'm not sure I could control my action if I caught them staring at what belongs to me." Joan laughed and kissed him before turning around to pick up her clothes that had flown everywhere.

"Your and only yours, my love,"


	16. Chapter 16

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

Joan came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, hastily dressed in jogging pants and Sherlock's tee shirt, fussing to pull her hair up in a messing ponytail. She was looking herself over in the mirror by the door, examining herself for any blaring signs of what she and Sherlock had been up to the night before, when the man himself appeared next to her reflection. He smiled and met her eyes in the glass before slowly reaching up and pulling the holder out of her hair, letting it fall loose over her shoulders.

"I like it better this way," he whispered as he nuzzled her neck and wrapped his arms around her waist. Joan smiled as she turned to face him, kissing him gently before pulling away.

"The Captain will be here any minute I assume," Sherlock nodded his head, and Joan watched has her beloved's smile began to fade slowly.

"I suppose we won't be able to hide ourselves any longer… especially after Gregson and Bell have read the note," Sherlock breathed.

"Would it be such a horrible thing for them to know about us? I mean they were going to find out about it eventually, were they not? Or… or did you not intend to tell them? Are you ashamed of me?" Joan tried to stay calm, asking the question casually. Sherlock's eyes filled with surprise and horror as he wrapped his arms tighter around her waist.

"My sweet angel, of course I am not ashamed of you. I want nothing more than to be able to show you off, especially to the Captain, hopefully putting him in his place." Sherlock smirked as he kissed her nose, drawing a giggle out, a giggle he loved so much.

"Okay. Then what is the problem?" Joan asked, leaning in to kiss lips gently and whining softly as he moves away.

"I just wanted to give them so time, you know, let everything… settle down… before announcing our relationship," Joan thought about it for a moment before covering her mouth in shock.

"Oh God! Sherlock! They are going to think… think that you took advantage! They are going to make you the bad guy," Sherlock nodded his head sadly, before shaking it off and trying to slip back into his "couldn't-careless" Sherlock persona.

"Yes… well… for every action there is a consequence…" Sherlock shrugged his shoulders, not looking her directly in the eyes.

"You aren't fooling me Sherlock Holmes," Joan said, slipping out of his grip, acting as casually as he did. "You care… you care what I think, what Bell thinks, and what Gregson thinks." She placed herself in the center of the sofa and gazed at him from over the back. "Especially what Gregson thinks… that is why you didn't want him to find out about your addiction and why you don't want him to find out about last night. His opinion is quite possible the most important to you." Sherlock smirked a little to himself as he listened to her deductions, she was getting quite good at reading him.

"You are wrong on one point," He said as he approached the back of the couch. "Gregson's opinion is not the most important to me… yours is," She smiled as he kissed her gently on the lips. Perfectly in sync, they both opened their mouths to deepen the kiss, when a knock at the door made them freeze. "Damn his timing," Sherlock groaned, giving Joan one last quick peck on the lips before going to open the door for the Captain.

XXXXX

Gregson and Bell finished reading the note and gave each other a surprised glance before turning back to face the now not-so-secret lovers. Joan glanced at the floor, blushing at being the center of attention, and Sherlock wrapped his arm around her waist gazing down at her, not able to meet the detective's eyes. Bell glanced from his partner to the consultants and back again, he could almost see the tension forming in the air.

"So," Bell cleared his throat, "there is no question that Moriarty was here. Do we have any idea how he go in?" Joan looked up, more than willing to take the focus off her and Sherlock, but the other two remained frozen. "It appears he is rather obsessed with the two of you… especially Ms. Watson…" Joan nodded as Sherlock tighten his grip on her, protectively pressing her against his body.

"What… what I don't understand," Joan stammered, doing her best to remain professional. "Is why did he clean everything up? I mean, I know the note gives one explanation, but I noticed it at the Brownstone as well after he had left both time. Everything was tidied up, blankets folded, books stacked, dishes cleaned… almost like he can't help it," Joan pondered allowed. She moved out of Sherlock's grip, reaching out to read the note again, but as she walked, her broken ankle showed its weakness and she began to tumble. In the blink of an eye, both Sherlock and Gregson snapped out of their trance and Sherlock caught Joan, wrapping his arms securely around her waist.

"Joan! My darling, are you alright?" Sherlock's voiced dripped with worry. He scooped her up bridal style, something she was truly starting to enjoy, walked her to the couch and gently set her down. He sat by her feet, pulled her legs into his lap, and examined her ankle. "Where is your wrap?"

"I took it off to shower, I guess I forgot about it. You were a bit distracting," She smiled up at him through her eye lashes and he smirked at her before kissing her nose. "I'll go get it," She started to slide off the couch.

"You sure you don't want me to get it?" She smiled and shook her head before turning and leaving the room. Sherlock watched her, ready to jump up if she so much as stumbled. Once she entered the bedroom, she paused. Eavesdropping was beneath her but as a detective she needed to know everything that was going on around her, did she not?

"So, you fucked her?" Joan covered her mouth to muffle her gasp at the accusing tone of Gregson's voice. She heard the distinctive creak off the springs off the couch, Sherlock was rising.

"How dare you use such a disgusting word in reference to Joan!" Sherlock was shouting, she could imagine him in Gregson's face. "I did not _fuck_ her! We… we made love…" She could imagine Sherlock refusing to meet Gregson's eyes as he used the euphemism.

"Oh bull shit! You made your move on a rape victim! Nothing about it was love!" With that Joan heard what sounded like a fist hitting a person, a face maybe, then Bell shouting.

"Hey! Hey, Holmes! Get a hold of yourself!" She could hear a struggle and fought the urge to run in and discover what exactly was going on when she heard Sherlock speak again.

"What are you truly upset about Gregson? Could it be that Joan chose me, rather than you? I love her, I loved her before all of this. You see her as a victim someone who needs protection. I am the one who is tortured by the memory of her, tied up and weak, yet I am the one who sees her not as a victim but as the strong beautiful woman that she is. I am the only one that truly loves her!" Joan smiled to herself to hear him shouting his affection for her.

"You didn't give her time to heal. How could you possibly say you love her?" Gregson shouted back.

"Why don't both of you just shut up!" She heard Bell yell, and suddenly the room fell silent. "Look, Ms. Watson has been hurt that is very true. She was a victim, she has been through hell and back. So, I agree with the Captain, it seems a bit early for you two to have done anything…" She knew Sherlock must be fuming, she could imagine him clenching and unclenching his fists, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "However… I know Ms. Watson. I know that woman would never do anything she didn't want to. She won't take shit from anyone especially not Holmes. Which means what happened between them, she was willingly to do. She must love you," She heard the sound of a hand patting a shoulder and she smiled, she knew she liked Bell. She decided she had been hiding long enough, she grabbed her wrap and walked back out.

"If you are all quite finished arguing over whether or not I can make my own decisions…" All three men turned to look in her direction. "I need someone to help me wrap my ankle," Sherlock immediately walked over to her, meeting her in two strides.

"May I?" He asked, making her giggle softly.

"As if you have to ask, my love," Sherlock glowed as he scooped her up, placed her back down on the couch, and began to wrap her ankle. She winced when Sherlock pulled the wrap a bit too tight and all three men looked up at her. "I am fine guys," She looked directly at Sherlock. "I promise." Once her ankle was wrapped, and the detective were done investigating the rest of the hotel room, Joan was rest on the couch as the men started to discuss where the consultants were going to stay.

"We have a safe house outside of the city. We can double the officers on guard, but you are going to have to stay there. No more going around town," Bell was telling Sherlock. Joan rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Why can't we just go back to the Brownstone," She said attracting everyone's attention once again. "I mean if he can find us here under constant surveillance then he can find us anywhere. So if nowhere is entirely safe, I would rather be somewhere I am entirely comfortable."

"Are you sure you want to go back to the Brownstone? I mean after everything, you definitely want to go back?" Sherlock was now kneeling in front of the couch, looking straight into her eyes.

"Sherlock… let's go home," Sherlock smiled and turned to face Bell and Gregson.

"You heard her men, the lovely lady wants to go home,"

**Hey guys! Sorry it took me so long to post a new chapter, hopefully I'll the next one out faster. Thank you for your reviews :) **

**~Tiger Lily :)**


	17. Chapter 17

*Disclaimer: I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

Less than an hour later Sherlock was helping Joan out of a taxi that had received a police escort to the Brownstone. The couple practically glowed as they gazed at their home. Sherlock glanced at Joan, searching for any hit of anxiety at returning to the scene of the incident, and to his immense joy, he found done. Joan was wearing her radiant smile as she turned to her lover and kissed him gently on the lips.

"Thank you, Sherlock, for bringing me home," Sherlock smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing the tip of her nose.

"It brings me no small pleasure to bring you home, my angel," Their loving moment was quickly dissolved as Gregson and Bell approached. The couple separated under Gregson's glare and has Sherlock began to discuss security measures, Joan turned to the Captain.

"Toby…" she whispered, placing a hand on his arm to pull his glare away from Sherlock. "Toby, please don't be angry with him," Gregson sighed and turned to face her.

"Joan, how can I not be?" Gregson met her eyes, and she finally understood. The Captain had only her best interest at heart, he wanted her safe and happy, and she could tell that he felt Sherlock was not up to the task. She was determine to prove him wrong.

"I love him, I really do. Almost from the first moment I saw him, I knew and I hoped that one day he would feel the same,"

"And he deduced that and took advantage of it!" Joan glared at him, something she picked up from Sherlock, and it was enough to stop Gregson from continuing.

"That is quite enough!" Joan hissed, stepping away from the officer. "Sherlock refused me at first if you must know! I had to talk him into being with me because he had the same thought as you. He said I needed time, that he didn't want to hurt me, but he is _not_ Moriarty. I am not your advantage woman, as I am sure you are aware, I needed Sherlock in order to heal, to remind me of what love felt like," Gregson watched as Joan's gaze fell on the consultant. As she continued her speech, a smile formed upon her lips and her eyes began to glow. As much as it pained him, Gregson could not deny how much the two detectives loved each other. He had seen a mutual affection grow between the two, especially during and after the Irene incident, but he had never imagined a man such as Sherlock acting upon it.

"You do love him," Gregson allowed, gaining back Joan's attention. "And, I will admit, I have never seen him allow anyone as close as he has allowed you to become. I think he returns your affection," Joan smiled and squeezed the Captains arm affectionately.

"So do I," Joan gave Gregson one last smile as Bell and Sherlock approached.

"It is all settled," Sherlock said, wrapping his arm possessively around Joan's waist. "We will be quite safe," Joan smiled up at him sweetly before turning back to the officers.

"Thank you both for your help and please keep us informed on any progress made," Sherlock and Joan smile at each other before Joan laughed, "We will me sure to do the same for you." Gregson pulled Sherlock aside for a moment to, as Joan could only hope, reconcile and she turned to Bell.

"Thank you, Bell, for standing up for me earlier today," Joan said, before kissing him on the cheek sweetly. Bell blushed and coughed softly, embarrassed.

"It was my pleasure, Ms. Watson," Bell laughed softly before meeting Sherlock's stare and turning away. Sherlock, upon seeing the exchange, returned himself to Joan's side as Bell and Gregson drove off.

"And what did our friend Bell do to deserve a token of your affection? A token that took me months to earn to privilege of receiving," Joan laughed, making Sherlock frown.

"Oh, sweetheart, don't make that face at me. I was simply thanking him for standing up for me this morning at the hotel, but I do adore when you get jealous," She smiled, kissing his cheek softly.

"I was not jealous," Sherlock mumbled, much like a five year old pouting, which only caused Joan to giggle more as she began to walk to the door. With a wicked smirk on his face, Sherlock quickly ran up behind her, scooped her up in his arms and spun her around, making her let out a small squeak of surprise before laughing and wrapping her arms around his neck as he walked them up the stairs towards the door.

"I thought it only appropriate to carry you over the threshold," He whispered in her hair. Joan looked up at him blushing softly.

"Did I miss the wedding?" Joan asked, arching her eyebrow at him. Sherlock smiled down at her, affection filling his eyes.

"You have my word, my darling, that if ever such a wedding were to occur… you would not soon forget it," He stared into her eyes, causing her breath to catch in her throat. Before she could even put a coherent respond together, Sherlock's lips crashed on hers as they crossed the threshold. "Welcome home," He breathed against her lip as he kicked the door closed behind them.

**Sorry it is so short guys, I thought up this scene and I couldn't help but include it. More soon, I promise. ~Tiger Lily**


	18. Chapter 18

*I don't own Elementary, nor any of the characters*

No amount of time would have satisfied the passion that burned into their first kiss at home, yet nature had other plans. Sherlock concluded that oxygen was the true criminal, or rather the lack there of. The human body needs oxygen to live. Being alive is a necessary ingredient in being able to love Joan. Ergo oxygen was a mandatory thing. As he gently placed her back on her feet, keeping his arms wrapped around her waist until he was certain she was steady enough on her feet not to tumble over, he gave her a quick peck on the forehead.

"Come on, Watson. We have a criminal to find," Sherlock said, before turning towards the parlor and leaving her standing in the hall. Joan smiled and laughed softly at how easily she and Sherlock were slipping back into their old routine, before heading off towards the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. It was sure to be a long night.

Once the tea was done, Joan filled to cups and carried them into the living room. Finding Sherlock sitting cross-legged on the floor staring at the "crime wall," Joan smiled and placed one cup on the ground beside his knee and carried her own to the couch, picking up a folder along the way. Sitting cross-legged on the couch, Joan opened the folder and began to go over the original police report for the day of the incident and the day Delar returned to the house. She noticed the report documented how tidy the Brownstone was after both of Moriarty's visits, just has the hotel had been unusually clean. Tapping her pen against her lip, Joan pondered this detail as she reached for a different folder. As she opened it she realized, she had never read this report before. It was a comparison between a crime planned by Irene as Moriarty and a crime planned by Marcus as Moriarty, each report had a picture of each Moriarty attached. She studied them closely. The two looked slightly alike, they had similar cheekbone structures, they both had light blonde hair, although Irene's was long and softly curled, while Marcus' was cut short and styled messy but straight. The only extreme difference was in their eyes, Irene had two deep blue eyes and Marcus had heterochromia, and although his one eye was deep blue like Irene's, the other was green. Joan pulled out her phone, quickly opened a browser and searched 'heterochromia' and selected the first result.

_In anatomy, heterochromia refers to a difference in coloration, usually of the iris but also of hair or skin. Heterochromia of the eye is of two kinds. In complete heterochromia, one iris is a different color from the other. In partial heterochromia or sectoral heterochromia, part of one iris is a different color from its remainder._

_Heterochromia is classified primarily by onset: as either genetic or acquired. Heterochromia that is congenital is usually inherited as an autosomal dominant trait._

From her medical training, she knew how autosomal dominant traits worked. Delar must have a parent with heterochromia in order to have it himself or another close relative… an uncle perhaps? She began to tap her pen again as she looked up at Sherlock, gently clearing her throat to get his attention.

"Yes, Watson? What is it?" Sherlock asked, not turning to face her.

"Didn't you once say you had a picture of Irene? With her uncle?" At this question, Sherlock turned to face her. She had his full attention at the mention of Irene's name.

"Yes… why do you ask?"

"May I see it?" Sherlock stood and quickly left the room, returning with a crumpled photography. "Thank you, sweetheart," Joan smiled, taking the picture from him. She concentrated not on Irene, rather on her uncle. Just as she thought… one green eye, one blue. She nodded to herself and had the picture back to Sherlock.

"You are finished with it?" Sherlock asked, obviously lost as to the purpose of this whole thing. Joan looked up at him briefly, nodded, smiled and turned back to the note pad where she was scribbling down notes. Sherlock sat down beside her on the couch and just stared at her. Joan tried desperately to ignore him, hoping her train of thought would reach its station before he derailed it. After jotting down her last thought, she closed the note pad and turned to face the consultant.

"Can I help you?" She asked, sweetly. Sherlock smiled, and reaching out to her face, tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"What are you hiding?" He gazed deep into her eyes, and Joan put on her best poker face.

"Hiding? I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about," Sherlock leaned closer, his lips centimeters from her own. Her heart raced as she felt his breath wash over her face.

"Are you sure, Joanie, that you have no idea what I am talking about?" Sherlock smiled deviously as Joan's eyelashes fluttered, a clear sign that she was trying to gather her thoughts.

"Y-yes," Joan breathed. Sherlock gently pressed his lips against hers, pulling away just as she began to respond, making her let out a small whimper. He smiled triumphantly.

"So, what is it your hiding?" Sherlock smiled. Joan smiled weakly, eyes fluttering as she gazed at him.

"I have found…" Joan breathed, leaning into Sherlock, resting her head on his shoulder. "That…"

"Yes, angel?" She could feel his smile through his whole body, he was convinced that he had won.

"That… you can't stand the fact that I discovered something before you did!" Joan laughed, slapping Sherlock playfully on the chest. Sherlock glared at her, rubbing his chest softly. "Oh stop it! The only thing hurt is your pride. Did you honestly think you could seduce me, Sherlock Holmes?"

"It works for you, why not me?" Joan's eyes grew wide making Sherlock smile like a Cheshire cat.

"When have I ever seduced you?" She asked raising an eyebrow.

"When have you not, my darling?" Sherlock kissed her forehead softly, before standing up and casually reaching for Joan's notepad, but she was having none of that. She quickly snatched it out of his reach and held it behind her back, smiling wickedly.

"No, no, no. No cheating," She scolded. "You never let me cheat. I always have to try to read your mind to figure out what you had already discovered. Now it is your turn, love," Joan smiled, quite pleased with herself. Sherlock smiled and dived at her, making her squeal, as she tried to keep her notes buried under her body. Sherlock wrapped his arms tight around her waist, reaching for what she was trying so hard to hide. After a few minutes of playful wrestling, Sherlock decided to try a new tactic. He unwrapped his arms from Joan's body. Joan looked up at him confused and slightly disappointed, she was having fun. He smiled down at her before pouncing again, tickling her sides, making her squeal and giggle, kicking her legs, playfully begging him to stop.

"Show me what you found and I will stop torturing you," Sherlock laughed as she squealed again.

"Okay!" Joan gasped, struggling to catch her breath from laughing. "Okay! You can have the notes! Just stop!" Sherlock released her and kissed her nose softly before stealing the notepad out of her hands. She sat up and crossed her arms, pouting, while Sherlock flipped through her notes. He glanced up at her as smiled softly before leaning forward and cupping her chin to make her look at him.

"Now, don't be like that, angel. You put up a good fight," He smiled sweetly and kissed her lips softly.

"You cheated," She mumbled, pursing her lips as she continued to pout.

"Would it make you feel better if I told you the connections you have made are quite good? Your detective skills are really improving. Where are you going exactly with these similarities?" Sherlock turning back to her notes, scanning over them again.

"I am not entirely sure yet," Joan said shrugging, before crawling over to Sherlock's side of the sofa and straddling his lap. Sherlock smiled as he placed on her waist, sure that her hips were probably still sensitive. "By the way," She whispered in his ear, "complimenting me did make me feel better," Joan gently placed her hands over his and slid them to rest on her hips, smiling wickedly, before leaning down and kissing him soundly on the lips.

"If this is how you are going to respond when I cheat then compliment you," Sherlock breathed between kisses, "Then I am going to have to do it more often."

"I like the compliments," Joan smiled, "but you ever cheat on me, my love, I will never do _this_ again," Joan kissed him senseless, then pulled away to look him square in the eyes. "Understood?"

"Message received," Sherlock laughed, before pulling her tight against his body, fully prepared to enjoy their first night at home. "I love you," he breathed between kisses.

"I love you, too." And they spent the next couple hours proving it.


	19. Chapter 19

**I am so sorry this took so long guys! I had a serious case of writer's block, but I have found a new muse so hopefully the next chapter will be out faster! -Tiger Lily**

Joan woke up smiling. She sighed contently before slowly opening her eyes. It took her a moment to realize where she was, she had been in Sherlock's room so few times that she didn't recognize it immediately. Glancing over shoulder, her gaze fell on her lover. Sherlock was still sleeping peacefully, a ghost of a smile dancing on his lips as he laid with his arm possessively armed around Joan's waist, holding her body against his chest. Joan quietly suppressed a giggle as her mind drifted back to the night before.

XXXXX

Things had quickly escalated leading to the couch no longer being the most convenient place for them to continue. With Joan still straddling his lap, Sherlock began to stand up, grabbing the underside if her thighs for support as she wrapped her legs tight around his waist. Too enraptured in the kiss to know, or even care, where they were headed, Joan had hardly noticed they had moved at all until Sherlock slammed her back against the wall by the foot of the stairs.

"Am I too heavy to continue?" Joan let out a breathy laugh, hoping that wasn't the reason his body was now pressed against hers, as Sherlock panted in her ear.

"Hardly, my darling, I simply couldn't resist the temptation of holding you hostage. It's hard to escape from this angle," Sherlock stated very matter-of-factly. Joan nodded in agreement, not that she had the slightest desire to escape, especially when his lips found _that_ spot on her neck that made her practically melt. She moaned passionately and she could feel him smile against her skin. He loved to feel her shiver beneath him, to hear her moan and know he was responsible for her pleasure. All of these feelings were new to him. Even with Irene it was more about his pleasure, if she truly enjoyed it that was simply a perk. With Joan, however, it was the opposite, her pleasure was all that mattered. And by some miracle, she loved him too, so he was never without pleasure, for Joan gave just as much as she took, perhaps even more, considering she was a giver by nature.

"I love you…" She breathed, and he almost bust with joy. He slammed his body tighter against her making her gasp out in surprise, his passion overflowing as he dug his fingers into her thighs and bit down on the most sensitive spot on her neck. As Joan turned to putty in his hands, Sherlock decided he would prefer his bed to the wall. He darted up the stairs, his hidden strength making an appearance, keep Joan so close to him that she could have sworn they flew up the stairs it was such a smooth ride. Next thing knew, she was being thrown on to a large bed, she was just enough aware of her surrounding to realize it was not her own, but Sherlock's body pressed tight against hers prevented any further investigation.

Their first night at begun slow, careful and ended in a fit of passion. Their second night was nothing but passion. Having memorized every bruise, every wound on her body, Sherlock knew exactly where to touch, grab, claw to cause Joan pleasure without causing his beloved any pain. Joan whimpered in anticipation, he was driving her absolutely crazy, and she would get him back for it. Their mouths crashed together as the two began to fight for dominance. Tossing and turning, one second Joan was straddling his him, the next he was pressed against the bed by Sherlock's strong torso. Clothes flew in every direction as the items got in the way of the lovers' passion. Together they flew over the edge and came spiraling towards Earth, scream one another's names and declaring their passionate lover, until finally exhaustion took over and they drifted asleep, bodies entangled.

XXXXX

Ever so gently, so not to disturb the still slumbering detective, Joan crawled out of bed, grabbed Sherlock's robe, and tiptoed down the stairs. After brewing herself some tea, Joan and her cup walked over to the sofa where Sherlock had "attacked" her the night before, quickly picked up her notebook from where it had fallen, and tucking her legs under her body began to look over her notes. Idly, she began to written the two Moriartys names over and over.

_Irene Adler, Marcus Delar, Irene Adler, Marcus Delar… Adler, Delar, Adler, Delar… A, D, L, E, R, D, E, L, A, R…_

Joan stopped and looked down at her nonsense writing. Adler and Delar had all the same letters just jumbled… Joan sat up a bit straighter and read over her notes again… Delar had heterochromia that had to be passed from a male relative such as an uncle, Adler's uncle had had heterochromia… a coincidence perhaps? Joan opened Irene's file again, she suffered from Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, hence her great attention to details. Marcus also showed traits of OCD, however his appeared more severe, hence he cleaned up and tidied every time he had left a scene. A quick internet search of the illness, there was a 25% chance that if one person had it a sibling may also suffer from it. A sibling? A sibling!

Joan quickly jumped up from her seat, there was no time to waste, there wasn't even time to wake Sherlock. She ran to the kitchen and poured another cup of tea, hurried back to the parlor to rip a page out of the back of her notebook and grab her pencil before darting up the stair. Quietly, she crept back into Sherlock's room. Joan placed the paper down, wrote a quick note, folded it in half and placed the cup of tea next to it. She then hurried to her suitcase, pulling out the first pieces of clothing her fingers touched, dressed and practically flew down the stairs and out the door. Once to the street, Joan flagged down a cab and telling the cabby her destination, they were off.

She barely waited for the taxi to stop before Joan leapt out and ran towards the entrance to the prison. Thanking heaven that she had had the foresight to call while in the cab, she was met at the door by one of the head guards.

"She is waiting for you, Ms. Watson," He said politely but formally. He wasted no time leading her down the corridor to the same meeting room as before. "Remember to be quick Miss, I could lose my job for letting you meet with her without a police escort." Joan turned to face him and kissed him gently on the cheek.

"Thanks, Andrew. I owe you one," The guard blushed and coughed embarrassed.

"Anything for you or Sherlock, Miss," And with that Joan took a deep breath and walked into the room.

"Hello, Ms. Watson. And where is dear Sherlock this morning?" Irene smiled sweetly from behind the glass, Joan was not amused.

"Where is he, Irene?" Joan snapped.

"And who might that be dearest?" Irene asked, gently sliding some of her golden hair behind her ear, seemingly uninterested.

"Marcus Delar. Your brother,"


	20. Chapter 20

***Disclaimer: I do not own Elementary, nor any of the characters***

Irene's smile faded and her overconfident façade disappeared.

"Joan, dear, why don't you have a seat? We have much to discuss," Joan approached the hard, plastic chair in front of the glass, never breaking eye contact with the blonde. "So, what make you think that Marcus is my brother?"

"I don't _think _anything, I know," Joan retorted, but when Irene raised her eyebrows in disbelief, she quickly corrected herself. "I will know, without a doubt, the moment Captain Gregson calls to confirm the DNA test."

"DNA test? Where did you get Marcus' DNA?" Joan smiled as she saw Irene squirm in her seat. She had won.

"Dear, you are losing your touch being locked up aren't you?" Irene glared at her through the glass. "How do you think we got his name? Now enough of this small talk, where is he, Irene?"

"Being watched. And very soon he will be taken care of, that I can promise you, Ms. Watson," Irene replied, and she began to stand as if to leave.

"Sit down!" Joan growled, flashing the glare that Irene knew well, the Holmes glare. Sighing, Moriarty returned to her seat. "You'll have to forgive me for not taking your word as the gospel truth." Irene laughed softly to herself and nodded in understanding.

"True enough, my dear. So do tell me, what is it you expect me to tell you?"

"I want to know the story, I want know everything, and most importantly… I want to know where he is,"

"Do you have a pen?"

XXXXX

Sherlock woke and noticed a few things immediately, before even opening his eyes. Firstly, and most importantly, Joan was not in his arms. Still keeping his eyes clothes he reached over to what he hoped would permanently become her side of the bed, it was no longer warm, but the pillow she had used still smelled of her perfume, jasmine and roses. She must have left the bed a couple hours ago, two or three, another smell floated through the air, tea, Joan's favorite morning brew. Sherlock listened carefully, no creaking floorboards, no squeaking doors, she was not in the house. This fact made his eyes shot open.

"Joan?" Sherlock asked, sitting straight up in bed and looking around the room. He found no Joan, he did however find a cup of her favorite tea on the bedside table. He picked up the cup and brought it to his lips. Lukewarm, it must have been on the table for an hour to an hour and a half, confirming the theory that she had left the bed around two hours ago. Her absence triggered a shiver of panic to run through Sherlock's body, until place down the tea cup, he noticed the note. He quickly snatched it off the table and scan over the words written in Joan's surprisingly beautiful handwriting, especially considering her time working in the medical field.

_Sherlock,_

_Connected the dots. Following a new lead. Promise to be home in two hours. I love you._

_Joan XOXO _

Sherlock shook his head at the childish joy he got out of seeing those insignificant letters arranged in an unimpressive pattern. He panic subsided and was instead replaced by a mixture of frustration and pride. On one hand, Watson, his partner, had made a break in one of the biggest cases of their career completely on her own. On the other, Joan, the love of his life, had left the safety and security of their home in order to chase after a criminal who had made no secret of the fact that she was his target. Pressing his fingers to his temple and sighing, Sherlock closed his eyes and flopped back on the bed. That exasperating, wonderful woman was going to be the death of him. Opening his eyes again, he sat up and got out of bed to ready himself for the day.

If Joan was going to be home soon, he would be waiting for her downstairs. Of course, he would be busy on the case, pay almost no attention as she walked through the door, and never would he let the words escape his mouth, but he knew she would read him like a book. She would know he missed her.

XXXX

"Remember what I told you, Ms. Watson," Irene warned as Joan stood to leave. "My people will be handling this problem, please for your safety, Sherlock's safety, and the safety of whoever else you may feel inclined to tell, stay out of the way. I have told my men that both Sherlock and yourself are not to be harmed, but I cannot protect you if you get caught in the cross fire."

"Thank you, Ms. Adler," Joan replied. "It has been a very informative visit."

"If you wish to see justice serviced, be at that location at five o'clock. Don't go in, just watch. Justice will be serviced, I am a woman of my word," Joan nodded and turned to leave. Upon reaching the door, the brunette turned and gazed at the blonde. She could see the sadness hidden behind the confidence and pride in Moriarty's eyes.

"My condolences, by the way. I am sorry that this is the only ending you see fit. No matter what my brother did, I would never be able to kill him."

"I am not killing my brother," She answered, and Joan detected a small sob catch in her throat and the betrayal of a tear forming in her eye. "I am disposing of an untrustworthy employee." Joan sighed and nodded before walking out the door. For once in her life, Joan felt sorry for Irene Adler.

**Hey guys! Sorry this chapter is kind of on the shorter side, it is more of a transition chapter towards what is next... Justice! Next one soon! ~Tiger Lily**


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